
Blushing Violet
Shy and quirky Violet Bishop has finally found the perfect way to meet a man who can fulfill her hidden submissive desires---an online dating site that matches couples based on books they love. In this case, the BDSM erotica that fuels her fire.
Two Dom best friends and business partners, Carlos Romano and Morgan Kane, are matched with Violet. They both want to date her and, rather than fight, decide to keep the fact they know each other a secret and let her choose. A good idea in theory, but impossible when they both fall in love and wish to make Violet their own.
The men build up Violet's almost nonexistent self-esteem and help her find strength she never knew she had, along with an almost bottomless craving for their dominant touch. When Violet discovers they've been less than truthful, the men realize they've helped her become stronger than even they knew---strong enough to leave them. Now Morgan and Carlos must find a way to win their perfect woman back, no matter what.
Ellora's Cave Publishing
Blushing Violet
ISBN 9781419937323
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Blushing Violet Copyright © 2011 Ann Mayburn
Edited by Grace Bradley
Photography and cover design by Syneca
Model: Shannon
Electronic book publication November 2011
The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora's Cave Publishing.
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Blushing Violet
Ann Mayburn
Violet Bishop watched the glittering crystal ball drop over NYC from the solitude of her cozy home in Dearborn, Michigan. Wrapped up in a comfy gray velvet blanket, she lifted her water glass of champagne to the screen and sang along with the mass of humanity in Times Square.
"Five, four, three, two, one! Happy New Year, Adam!" He attacked her with sloppy kisses until she laughed and pushed him back. With a giggle she pulled long strands of her red hair out of Adam's mouth. He tended to get a little carried away when he got excited. Wrapping her arms around him, she gave him a big hug and whispered in his ear, "I can't think of anyone I'd rather spend New Year's with."
Adam's long black tail thumped on the couch in a happy rhythm and he gave her another lick. What she said was true. Sad, but true. There was no one she wanted to spend New Year's with more than her overweight black lab. Not after her ex had dumped her on the day before Christmas for his bleach-blonde, orange-spray-tanned nursing assistant.
In the neighborhood outside her house, the sound of fireworks and guns being shot off created loud bangs. Adam, all eighty-five pounds of him, tried to hide behind her on the couch.
"Some guard dog you are," she sighed and threw the blanket over him. He gave a pitiful whine and buried his face into the mauve cushions of her sofa. "Yeah, yeah, I know. If a pizza or a box of doughnuts ever breaks into the house, you'll take care of it."
The last of the bottle of champagne dribbled into her cup and she realized she was swaying a bit. Glaring at all the happy couples sharing a kiss on TV, she stumbled across the small living room to her computer desk. A framed photo of her and the ex, Dr. Kenny, stood on the shelf above her computer. Her best friend, Bethany, had scratched out his face and taped a picture of a Viagra bottle over his crotch. Violet kept the picture there to remind herself why she was about to do something that terrified her. Something that was so out of character she could scarcely believe she even considered it as a valid option for changing her life.
Moving her mouse, she blinked her eyes and tried to focus on the image on the screen. The picture that she had been staring at all night. Those innocent black-on-white words that at once frightened her and filled her with excitement.
The image of an online dating application filled out in full and ready to be sent off into cyberspace.
The sound of merrymaking faded into the background as she chewed on her thumb and looked at the screen. In her mind, her mother's voice scolded her for biting her nails and she jerked her hand away with a guilty look over her shoulder. Even though she was twenty-eight years old, and had been out of her parents' house for over nine years, she still couldn't escape her mother's disapproval. And boy howdy would her mother disapprove of this dating site.
On the surface, it was just like any other online dating service. She filled out a personality profile, submitted a picture of herself, which she didn't want to do but did anyway because she didn't want to disappoint anyone with her size-sixteen body, and gave her credit card information. What made it different was that the information she filled out was only a couple questions about her as a person. The rest of the survey was all about her favorite books.
Leaning back in her computer chair, Violet scanned the loaded shelves of one of her bookcases that flanked the computer desk. Titles as familiar as old friends met her eyes and she relaxed in their memories. Books never judged her, never told her she was fat, never called her fire-crotch because of her flaming-red Scottish hair. They allowed her to lead the lives of brave and daring women who didn't take no for an answer and always had a snappy comeback.
Most of all, they allowed her to indulge in forbidden fantasies that made her hot and wet. Fantasies that good girls didn't have. Things she had never dared to do, or even mention, with her small selection of previous boyfriends. The majority of these well-read books, which were the foundation for her most forbidden fantasies, revolved around BDSM and ménage a trois.
Shifting in her chair, she felt the familiar ache of desire fill her body. The night would no doubt end with her finding her release with her favorite vibrator in bed. Kenny had once complained that she was a nymphomaniac when she had tried to surprise him by wearing a black leather corset to bed and the remark had crushed her. It was hard enough to trust herself with a man as handsome as Dr. Kenny. To be told that her desires were sexually perverse shattered a bit of her hard-won self-confidence.
Bethany said that Kenny was the poster child for erectile dysfunction and would be happier with a nun.
Not giving herself time to think, Violet clicked the send button---and immediately tried to take it back. Too late. Her perversions were now flying across the World Wide Web under the not so clever user name of Blushing Violet. She chose that name, pre-champagne pity party, because of the frequency of her pale cheeks turning red with embarrassment.
And right now, they were hot enough to roast marshmallows on. In a few moments, her profile listing her red-haired, freckle-faced, size-sixteen body would be available for anyone in the world to see. She hadn't bothered to try to lie about how she looked, the idea of meeting someone for the first time and facing their dissatisfaction made her stomach clench.
Her hand stole up, seemingly of its own accord, and stroked the shiny cover of her favorite art book sitting on the small file cabinet next to her computer. Solid black, with hints of pale pink in the letters, it contained an expensive collection of photos and artwork devoted to the BDSM lifestyle. Her mother would call it pornography, but she loved the beauty of the pictures with their raw emotion and sensuality.
And, truth be told, the images really turned her on. The bondage book, along with a few other select works of erotica, made it onto her favorite books list, in-between Jane Austen and Stephen King. Flipping through the slick pages, she mused about how much one can learn about a person from what they read. At least, she hoped that was the case. Too shy to even consider going to a BDSM club or meeting, she was forever doomed to a life of vanilla boredom if she didn't find the courage to go after what she really wanted.
A Master to call her own.
The thought of having a strong and dominant man, worthy of her trust, waiting for her when she got home at night made more than her body ache. It made her heart ache. To have that kind of trust, the ability to fully give herself over to someone and know they loved her unconditionally was her dream. Every woman wanted to be worshiped, she just wanted to be tied up and spanked when it happened.
After grabbing the book, she staggered over to her favorite reading chair and slumped back into its forgiving comfort. Adam abandoned the safety of the couch and assumed his version of the reading position. Directly under her feet, getting petted by the brush of her toes as she rocked the chair.
Soft fur tickled over her feet as she rocked and flipped the pages. Her mind wandered over the image of a woman on her knees. This had always been one of her favorites, one of the images that called to her and filled her with longing.
The black-and-white picture showed a woman with long, dark hair, naked and shackled by her hands and feet to a frame. A small smile curved her lips, and Violet read contentment and pleasure in its arch. Two men, dressed only in black leather pants, stood on either side of her. They were beyond handsome. The light cast shadows on their toned bodies, muscles frozen in time. She was unable to see their faces, but their sable hair and blond curls filled her fantasies. By careful planning, or chance, the camera caught them as their floggers crossed over the woman's stomach and wrapped around her waist.
The throb in her pussy became a pounding need. Stepping over Adam, she carefully put the book back into its place on the shelf and turned off the lights. Bumping into the doorframe, she giggled at her lack of coordination and tried to ignore her mother's voice nagging about the hangover she was sure to have tomorrow.
Four paces took her to the edge of her canopy bed and she crawled over the pearl-gray goose down comforter in the dim light through the window. Not bothering to turn on the bedside lamp, she didn't think she could without breaking it at the moment, she tugged open the drawer next to her bed and brought out her favorite vibrator.
Kenny had hated her toys, and she had to hide them on the rare occasion he spent the night at her house. He was a doctor and lived in a condo close to the Detroit Children's Hospital where he worked. The first, and only, time she had tried to introduce a toy into their play had resulted in him recoiling in disgust and refusing to touch her for the rest of the night. She should have dumped him, but her mother had been overjoyed at the thought of Violet being with a doctor. Compliments from her mother about anything were rare, and her mother had more than once warned her that if she didn't lose some weight and do something about her appearance she would lose Dr. Kenny. What her mother had really meant was that she enjoyed bragging to the ladies at the country club that her daughter was dating a doctor.
Slamming the drawer shut, she tried to do the same with her mind and focus on the present. She wasn't going to let Kenny ruin another one of her orgasms.
Lying back in her bed, she scooted out of her panties and pulled the thick comforter over her body. Turning on the vibrator, she let the images of the book run through her mind.
She hung suspended from the frame, feeling the weight of her body pull on her arms. Goose bumps covered her exposed skin as the cool air brushed against her. Out of the darkness, they came to pleasure her.
One had sable-brown hair and a dark tan that spoke of blood warmer than European in his background. With sinfully long lashes, his dark eyes watched her with hunger. A bright-blue leather flogger whispered over his hand as he stood before her and slapped it across his palm. Shirtless, he had the lean and toned body of a runner.
The golden curls of the man standing next to him glinted in the light. Heavy muscles covered his frame, the kind gained through hard work in the gym. A line of hair led down his navel and disappeared into his black leather pants. Rough and masculine, his face was saved from being too severe by the most kissable lips she had ever seen on a man. A sparkle of mischief lit his blue eyes and those lips curved into a knowing grin.
Already turned-on, she shivered in her bed as she imagined the kiss of the floggers on her nipples, followed by the heat of their tongues. The blond moved around to her back, licking down her spine and spreading her bottom with his big hands. In front of her, the sable-haired man gave her a long and drugging kiss.
She moaned into his mouth, arching back to meet the blond man's touch as he licked at her anus with quick slips of the tongue. She had always found the idea of anal sex sinfully arousing, even if she had never had the nerve to suggest it to her boyfriends in real life. In her dreams, her fantasies, nothing was forbidden.
The dark-haired man ran his hand down her breasts, over the curve of her belly, and down to her wet pussy. Looking into her eyes, he slipped two fingers into her and began to stroke. Each outward drag of his fingers had him pressing just right on her G-spot, working her until she thrust her hips between him and the blond's tongue.
In perfect rhythm, the men pleasured her. So good, those imagined strokes of the blond's tongue had her crying out and thrashing in the shackles. Strong hands gripped her hips and held her, making her take the overwhelming pleasure, making her shudder and gasp.
In her imagination, the sable-haired man said the words that always brought her over the edge.
"I want you to come for me."
It wasn't a request, it was an order. And she was happy to fulfill it.
Abandoning herself to their strength, she twitched and jerked on their tongue and fingers, cradled against their bodies. The blond wrapped his arms around her from behind and whispered lovely things into her ears while the other man licked his fingers clean with a delighted smile.
Sighing into the quiet night, she tossed the vibrator aside to be cleaned later and curled into her bed. As her satisfied body fell asleep, she wished with all her heart to find someone to hold her close and love her.
\*
Carlos Romano nursed his post-New Year's hangover with a tall glass of water and a delivery of sliders from the diner downstairs. The front door of his sprawling penthouse apartment opened and he pushed the bag of greasy cheeseburgers across the low mahogany table. His best friend, Morgan Kane, stumbled into the room before reaching into the bag with a grunt. He pushed the sunglasses back up on his nose with a wince after they slid down and exposed his bloodshot eyes to the late afternoon light pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows. It was four p.m. on the first day of the new year and they had just woken up a few hours ago.
"Can you believe those manipulative bitches?" Morgan took a big bite of his burger and brushed a blond curl off his forehead. At six-foot-three, two hundred and twenty-nine pounds, Morgan still looked like the linebacker he had been in high school and college. Going by appearances alone, no one would ever guess that he was one of the country's leading digital artists with a flair for gorgeous and whimsical paintings.
Carlos took a long drink of water. "I'm glad we found out before we wasted any more time with them."
"Or money," Morgan said from around his food. Swallowing, he leaned back into the expensive black leather couch across from Carlos. Morgan lived two floors above Carlos' apartment in the heart of downtown Detroit. Both their places faced Comerica Park and they often sat in front of the windows and watched the Detroit Tigers play in the summer.
"I'm just glad they didn't see us standing on the other side of the door." Carlos opened his laptop and started clicking through his email. "I can still hear Stacy complaining that the bracelet I got her for Christmas was only two carats of diamonds instead of three. What a bitch."
Morgan shook his burger at him while he talked. "I can't believe they were faking being into bondage just to get at our wallets. I told you Kelly was always trying to top from the bottom."
Snorting, Carlos clicked open an email from one of their patrons. Carlos was a photographer and earned a decent living selling his prints. He made his real money selling the pictures that Morgan digitally altered with a deft and delicate touch. Morgan liked to joke that he had no real talent, he simply colored in the lines that Carlos drew with his photographs.
"April wants to know if we've started work on the exhibit we promised her at the Detroit Institute of Arts in a couple months." Grimacing, he looked up and noted a similar sour expression on Morgan's face.
"Let's make her crap her Chanel suit and tell her the truth. We don't have a fucking clue."
"We had better get a clue, and fast. This is too big an opportunity to blow off."
"I know," Morgan muttered and tossed his sunglasses on the table. His blue eyes were red and tired-looking. "I'm just so over thinking about it. That's all we've done for the past three weeks. Besides, my brain is like pudding right now."
Carlos grunted in agreement and moved on to the next email. As he read the sender's name, he felt excited for the first time in what felt like forever. It was from the matchmaking site.
"I have a hit!" he said and pumped his fist into the air.
"No shit." Morgan tossed the burger on the table and sat next to him on the couch. "Check my email."
Carlos waved him away. "Go use the computer in the study."
Not bothering to answer, Morgan sprinted into the other room and Carlos turned back to his email. A couple weeks ago he had joined an online dating site that had really appealed to him. This was after a particularly unfulfilling conversation with his ex-girlfriend, Stacy, which had led to bland sex just so he wouldn't have to talk to her anymore. One of his friends from the BDSM scene had found her perfect submissive via this site, and he had high hopes.
It wasn't just about sex, it was about personality and what made a person tick. He had talked it over with Morgan and Morgan liked the idea so much he decided to sign up as well. Carlos tried to be as absolutely honest as he could when he filled the form out. This was one place he could be truthful and not have to worry about any kind of judgment.
Excitement coursed through him and he had to laugh at himself. After all the women he had been with, after all the exotic things he had done, the act of opening an email made his cock hard. Taking a deep breath, he clicked the link of the first and only woman who had met his very exact specifications, and whose ideals he matched.
That breath came out in a silent puff of air as he looked at the picture on the screen. She bore a striking resemblance to his current obsession, actress Christina Hendricks from the TV show Mad Men. Only there was something a bit softer, more innocent about her. Long red hair fell in a mess of curls, framing an angelic beauty. Her eyes were a pale green so light they almost appeared silver. Wide and uncertain, they seemed to look into his with a heartbreaking vulnerability. A smattering of freckles sprayed over her nose and cheeks, adding to the look of innocence. Full and pink, her lips were the only thing about her that lent a carnal air and he wondered what they would taste like.
A loud whoop from the study let him know that Morgan had good news as well. Carlos grinned and leaned closer to the screen, wishing the picture was bigger.
Smiling shyly at the camera, she kept her shoulders slightly rounded beneath her pale-blue sweater. His eyes wandered lower and he admired the full and heavy breasts she tried to hide with her loose clothes. It was obvious she didn't know how beautiful she was.
With her image burned into his mind, he read the first line of her profile, Blushing Violet. Whispering the name out loud, he stared at her creamy skin and imagined the flood of pink heating her cheeks. His mind moved to more carnal desires and he wondered if her whole body flushed when she had an orgasm.
Morgan came striding into the room, interrupting his fantasies. "I have hit the jackpot," he announced and nabbed Carlos' water glass, stepping back before taking a deep gulp. "You will never believe the beauty that arrived in my email."
Returning his smile, Carlos said, "And you, my friend, will never believe the amazing creature the gods have sent me."
Grabbing his abandoned burger, Morgan studied his favorite photograph that hung on Carlos' wall. It was the lush curve of a woman's bottom, full and thick, with a whip coiled atop it like a sleeping snake. "She is delicious, all auburn hair and curves. And her eyes, man, I've never seen anything like them. She's like Jessica Rabbit come to life, but softer."
Staring at the picture of his Blushing Violet, Carlos nodded. "My lady has breasts that would make Jane Mansfield weep with envy. Even if they are hidden behind a rather dull sweater."
"Mine too." Morgan vaulted over the back of the couch and Carlos winced as he landed. "First thing I'm going to do is take her shopping and show her how beautiful she is." He sighed happily and ate the last bite of his burger. "I love spoiling my women."
Carlos eagerly read her profile. "Oh shit, you are not going to believe this."
"What?" Morgan already had his iPhone out and was busy typing away.
"She loves our books." His heart gave another thud as he read some of her other favorite erotic novels. "Oh my. I do believe my little Blushing Violet is a closet submissive."
Morgan's fingers froze. "What did you call her?"
"Mine?"
"Not that. Did you just say Blushing Violet?"
"Yeah." Watching Morgan tip his head back against the couch and groan, Carlos became worried. "What? Do you know her?"
"Yeah." Morgan looked up and blew a breath out of his nose. "I just got her profile sent to me too."
"What?" Carlos scooted up on the couch and held the computer closer, as if it was the woman in question. "That's not possible."
"Oh yeah. Two guys who both love curvy redheads, are into the BDSM lifestyle, and read the same books would never be attracted to the same woman." Morgan narrowed his eyes. "By the way, she's mine. Go find yourself another auburn-haired goddess."
Carlos bared his teeth at him. "You're high if you think I'm going to give you first dibs on her. Besides, I opened my email first."
"That doesn't mean anything. Besides, I need her more."
"How the hell do you figure that? It's my artwork that she loves."
"Hey, I'm in that book too. It's my artwork that she loves."
Carlos rubbed his eyes until he saw bright spots. "Look," he growled. "I'm not going to fight over this with you. We'll run a simple test and let her decide."
"How do you figure that?" Morgan gave him a suspicious look. Both men were very competitive and often spent hours playing various games to prove who was the best. Well, this was a prize Carlos had no intention of losing.
"We'll both send her an email. Introduce ourselves, etc. But, at the end of the email, I'll include our favorite picture from that book and ask her to send us her favorite back. If she sends one of mine, I get her. If she sends one of yours, you get her."
"What if she picks someone else's?"
"Then we flip a coin."
Morgan thought this over. "It sounds fair, but I have the cognitive abilities of a chipmunk right now." He sighed and stuck out his hand. "I guess that since we've been best friends since high school I can trust you to flip fair."
Carlos grinned and shook his hand. "Buddy, if I could figure out how to rig a flip, I would."
Violet took a big swig of her black coffee to wash down the aspirin. Her headache throbbed so hard she thought her eyes might fall out of her aching skull. If that would make her feel any better, she was all for it. Even an afternoon nap hadn't helped the situation.
Trying to think of what she could tolerate for dinner, she opened her email and blinked. There, between an ad for penis enhancement and a discount promo from Victoria's Secret, sat two messages from Literary Love. She sat there staring at the emails, trying to tell herself not to get her hopes up. It could just be receipts of her purchase, or a welcome message.
That excuse was as flimsy as her last paycheck. In big black letters next to the sender's name was the message We Found a Match! not once, but twice. Unable to deny that the website had found her an alleged match, in less than twenty-four hours, she moved on to telling herself that the men must be losers.
Adam barked at the back door, wanting to be let out despite the perfectly functional doggy door. Finger hovering over the mouse, she tried to get up the nerve to click it. What if it was some big, super pervert weirdo who wanted to eat peanut butter out of her nose? What if they met her and were disappointed and she had to sit through a date with someone who wanted to chew their arm off to escape her? What if---
Loud and getting frantic, Adam's barking broke through her indecision. "You're right, Adam. It's time to nut-up or shut up."
Clicking the mouse, she spun out of her chair and headed for the back door before the screen could load. Feeling like a coward, she watched Adam wander around the snow-covered yard and snuffle for a good spot. Normally she wished the dog would hurry up, but today she was content to let him take his time. Heck, if he wanted to get a copy of the New Yorker and read it while he went to the bathroom she'd be happy. It meant she could avoid the computer screen a little while longer. Unfortunately, Adam decided it was too cold to hang out and ran back into the house in record time, for him.
Taking small steps, Violet kept her eyes on the gray carpet as she moved from the enclosed back porch and into the living room. Her gaze ran over the soft cream walls, skipping past pictures of friends and family, looking everywhere but the computer screen. When her feet bumped into the thick plastic sheet beneath her computer chair, she stopped and stood there.
A cold and wet nose nudged her hand and she squatted next to Adam, scratching his ears while his sweet brown eyes rolled in bliss.
"You know I'm being silly, right? I mean, I come from a species that mastered fire and can openers, surely I can find the bravery to look at an email. It's not like I have to respond or anything." Adam took her pep talk in stride and flopped onto his back, displaying his barrel belly for some loving. "You're right, Adam. I'm setting a bad example for you. How can I help you get over your irrational fear of squirrels and the sound of Oprah's voice if I can't even look at an email?"
She leaned forward and grabbed his ears, bringing her forehead to his. "For you, Adam, I'm doing this for you."
Releasing her four-legged love machine, she scooted into her computer chair and looked at the screen.
Dear Blushing Violet,
Well, that wasn't too bad of a start. At least he got her name right, and could spell it.
You cannot imagine how delighted I was when I opened my email this morning and found your lovely eyes staring back at me.
Maybe he wasn't wearing his glasses yet.
I've never seen their likeness, they remind me of mint leaves covered in frost.
Maybe he sold paint for a living. Would explain his knowledge of colors.
When I read your profile and your favorite book selections, I couldn't help but smile. If you'll notice, it almost exactly matches my list.
She quickly scrolled to the bottom of his email, where his profile was displayed. She made a little sound of disappointment that he had no picture. His name was Rocky. She started to snort but remembered her own none-too-original screen name. Let those who don't have tacky online identities throw the first stone. She would have to click another link to take her to his bookcase, and decided to get back to the letter instead.
I would love to meet with you and take you out to dinner or anything else you would like.
Great, he's blind and desperate.
I was wondering if you would do one thing for me before we meet. I've enclosed my favorite picture from a book that we both like. I would enjoy knowing what picture draws you in, what image speaks to you. Though you do not know me, I promise you that nothing you pick will shock me or make me think less of you. I hope the same can be said for me.
Rocky
Licking her lips, she clicked the attached picture file and gasped. A naked and bound woman rested her head on the thick leather-clad thigh of a man. The photo stopped midway on him, leaving the viewer with only a hint of the body above his spectacular six-pack. Most people would have just looked at the elaborate knots holding her arms behind her and assumed she was in pain, but Violet looked beyond. Peace, tranquility and satisfaction filled the woman's face as she cuddled against the man. One strong hand gripped the back of her head, but Violet noted how his thumb barely pressed into her cheek, caressing her.
Heart pounding, she closed the email. For a long time she sat and stared at the computer screen, only flinching when the screen saver came on. She loved that picture, it was one of her favorites from the black bound book. Everything about that picture spoke about the relationship she craved, the emotional aspects of being a submissive that went beyond sex.
Putting off responding to him, she opened the next email. To her surprise it wasn't a copy of the first, but a whole new man.
My Blushing Violet,
With her mind still filled with the emotions of the picture, his words warmed her and heated her body.
I have searched for you for a long time, knowing you were out there but unsure how to find you.
She tried to laugh off his words, but her usual inner snarky self was still buried beneath desire and an ethereal fragment of hope.
Imagine my surprise when on the first day of the new year, I find you delivered to me in my email. The first thing that caught my attention was your hair.
Fire-crotch, carrot head, freckle-face ginger, her mind whispered in her older sister's cutting voice.
It's amazing, the most beautiful shade of auburn I've ever seen. The way it flows around your face and frames you is a work of art.
Tears actually came to her eyes and this time she did laugh at herself. What a sap, a man compliments her hair color and she melts like ice cream on a hot summer day. That didn't stop her from eagerly reading his next sentence. In truth, her soul drank up his compliments like dry soil absorbing the first drops of rain.
If you're willing, I would love to meet up with you. I promise that I will be an utter gentleman and treat you with all the attention and care you so richly deserve. Please let me know if you are willing to give me a chance to prove to you how special you are.
Barney
Blinking, she read his name again and laughed. Of all the names she expected from the eloquent and charming man, Barney was not one of them. Scrolling down to his profile, she laughed even louder. His picture was Barney Rubble from The Flintstones. Snickering, she read a bit more about him and clicked his book link.
They liked almost all the same books, though he was into more hardcore sci-fi than she liked to read. Her heart thudded in her chest as she read the titles of some familiar Dominance/submission erotica, and then the name of the black book. That brought her mind around again to Rocky and his request.
Did she dare? She was intrigued by both emails, each struck her in a different way. Unable to believe her good luck, she started to tear the letters apart and look for a reason not to answer. A glance at the picture of her and Bethany on the wall stopped that line of thought. Bethany said that Violet needed to kick her mother and sister out of her head and listen to herself for once.
Pondering this, she went to the bookcase and flipped to the familiar page of the woman displayed between the two men. This is what she wanted, to be this woman.
Not giving herself time to chicken out, she sat down and pounded out her message and included the page number of the book. Hitting send, she pushed her keyboard back and actually shivered. This was so out of character for her, so out of the norm. She was the quiet girl, her stunning older sister's silent shadow. The girl who faded into the background and didn't cause waves.
And right now, she was the girl about to send out a second email to a mysterious stranger, who might or might not resemble Barney Rubble.
\*
"Well shit," Morgan said for the tenth time in less than five minutes.
"I know," Carlos repeated.
They sat staring at the computer screen in Morgan's apartment. Where Carlos liked clean and modern lines in black and white, Morgan's decor was filled with enough color and clutter to resemble a junk store run by hippies. No, Carlos amended, not a junk store. The orange, yellow and red Chihuly glass sculpture hanging from the ceiling over the solid maple dining room table cost more than his first car. A lot more.
Right now that sculpture threw orange and red shadows on Morgan's laptop where they stared at Blushing Violet's art selection.
"Out of all the pictures in that book, she picks this one." Morgan pushed his chair away from the table and stood with a groan, stretching his back out. He walked away from the dining room and flopped back into his gigantic blue suede bean bag.
"The irony is not lost on me." Carlos tugged at the collar of his white button-down shirt. He had a photography session in an hour with a client. It took all of his strength not to cancel it so he could obsess over the emails with Morgan.
"Over two hundred pages, fifty of them mine and yours, and she chooses this one."
"The only one not by us, but with both of us in it." One of their good friends was the photographer and she needed two male models. They agreed, as long as she assured them she would keep their faces out of the pictures. It had been a fun shoot, and the evening afterward with the model pressed between them had been even more fun.
Come to think of it, he had really enjoyed sharing the woman with Morgan. Something about watching the woman pleasure him, working her over together, had done it for Carlos. No big surprise there. Most photographers he knew were voyeurs.
Morgan played with the thick onyx bead necklace around his throat. "What the hell are we supposed to do now?"
"I have an idea." He leaned back in his chair and watched Morgan carefully.
Morgan stopped fiddling with his necklace and gave him a narrow-eyed look. "If your plan includes me giving up, you can stick it up your ass."
Carlos rolled his eyes and turned the screen so Morgan could see it. "We give her what she wants."
"Uh, dude, I don't think she's quite ready for all of that. She may have the heart of a submissive, but not the experience."
"Not at the same time." Yet, he mentally added. "We both date her." He held up his hand to cut off Morgan's protests. "Let her decide. We'll each date her for a month or two, try to win her heart, and she'll be the one to decide to get serious with one of us."
Morgan stood and grabbed his racquet ball. It drove Carlos nuts when he bounced it, but it helped Morgan think. "We'd have to have some ground rules." Bounce. "I don't think we should tell her that we know each other, might make her feel weird." Bounce. "Obviously no one has appreciated her the way we do." Bounce. "Can give her what we have to offer." Bounce, bounce.
"Agreed. No making her feel guilty about dating the other guy. No head trips or manipulation." This earned him a glare from Morgan. "Just try to win her heart."
"What about sex?" Morgan bounced the ball off the wall, narrowly missing a framed original of one of his works. The tranquil garden scene was lovely, but boring, at first. It was only when you looked closer that you realized that within the rose bushes, beautiful fairy women were engaged in some rather risqué behavior with each other.
"Sex is allowed. We need to see how she responds to our lifestyle. It may only be something she fantasies about, but can't actually handle in real life."
"No collaring, got it." Morgan's grin when he turned around was filled with anticipation. "Though I hope you totally lose, I'm glad you're the other man. You're the only one I would trust to treat her right."
Carlos held out his hand. "Shake on it?"
The clasped hands and Morgan pulled him in for a hug. "Love you, man."
"Love you, too." Carlos pushed him back. "Christ, go take a shower. You are ripe."
Morgan laughed and resumed his bouncing, looking out at the glittering night skyline of Detroit. Carlos turned the computer back around, staring at the screen and planning his seduction.
Violet shifted nervously in her black high heels on the golden carpet in the foyer of Opus One. She had spent the last fifteen minutes sitting in her car in the nearby parking garage, trying to talk herself into going inside. It wasn't just the somewhat blind date that intimidated her, it was the restaurant itself.
Rich and opulent, the atmosphere lived up to the hype she had heard about it. Never in a million years would she have come here to eat. It was far above her price range and she felt like an imposter. Elegant men and women, dressed to impress, filled the portion of the dining room she could see. The bar was also bustling with gorgeous women coquettishly smiling at handsome men in thousand-dollar suits.
Pulling the black shawl over her shoulders, she damned herself again for letting Bethany talk her into dressing up. Instead of the comfortable navy-blue cotton dress that she wanted to wear, Bethany had bullied her into pulling out the black cashmere dress with its daring halter neck. She bought it on sale last year, but had never actually dared to wear it in public.
It always amazed her how five-foot-one Bethany managed to be more threatening than a platoon of Marines. Trying to resist her was like trying to resist a hurricane. It was easier to just give in and let her have her way.
Her fingers clutched the little black beaded bag Bethany had lent her and she shifted in her heels. The knee-length dress she wore was the nicest thing she owned. But compared to the outfits of the other women here, she might as well have been wearing a ratty sweatshirt and jeans.
The older couple in front of her moved away from the podium, escorted to their table by a pretty hostess in a daring oyster-gray dress. Squaring her shoulders, Violet stepped up and said, "I'm here to meet my date."
Tall and thin, the head hostess could have stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine. With her black hair slicked back from her face, she oozed confidence and elegant sex appeal. "What is the gentleman's name?"
Nerves and embarrassment scrambled her brains as she tried to remember his real name. She had been thinking of him as Rocky for so long she was drawing a blank. The hostess arched one perfectly plucked eyebrow. She briefly considered sending him a text message, but changed her mind.
"Uh...it's a blind date. I mean a first date, it's not really blind because we met online. Well I guess you could call it a semi-seeing first date." Her babbles died off to a whisper. "Maybe he left you a message for me? My name is Violet."
The hostess blinked in surprise and gave her a rather visible head-to-toe examination. Whatever she saw clearly didn't match what she expected. "You're here to meet Mr. Romano?"
Relief rushed through her. "Yes, that's his name." The couple behind her shifted impatiently.
The pretty blonde came back to the podium and the hostess turned to her. "Please escort our guest to Mr. Romano's table."
Now it was the blonde's turn to give her a surprised and pitying look. "Please follow me."
Violet's stomach churned and she clutched her handbag with white knuckles. This was horrible, a total mistake. Obviously Mr. Romano was hideous. That was the only explanation for the woman's surprise and pity. Or worse yet, she was so hideous that the hostess felt bad for her blind date. The more she looked around at the crowd, the more she became aware of the fact she was probably the only woman in the room who had a haircut that cost under two hundred dollars and wore something that wasn't couture original in a size six. She tried to suck in her stomach as much as she could as she followed the hostess.
Another worry entered her head. What if he expected to go Dutch, or worse yet, for her to pay for everything? It would cost her a mortgage payment just to afford a meal. If he ordered any wine she'd have to go sell blood.
Her worrying was interrupted as they rounded the curve of a group of tables and reached the back portion of the restaurant. The gold theme continued in here with elegant table settings and opulent dark-wood decorations. A beautiful, etched-glass display featuring farmers working in a field covered the back wall. The hostess waited for a waiter with a tray full of amazing and decadent food to pass.
Violet scanned the people on this side of the room, trying to imagine which one was Mr. Romano. A group of attractive older women whispered and ogled a man sitting with his back to her. Dark-brown hair brushed the collar of his navy-blue, pin-stripe suit. Broad shoulders filled out the jacket and the small sliver of skin visible between his hair and the collar was a deep bronze.
A small sigh of disappointment filtered through her lips. Whoever he was waiting for was one lucky woman.
Threading through the crowd, the hostess stopped at the dark-haired man's table and Violet almost dropped her purse. Turning on the charm, the blonde purred, "Mr. Romano, your guest has arrived."
"You mean my exquisite date." The words rolled off his tongue with a faint accent and Violet forgot to breathe. Handsome, utterly and devastatingly handsome. He turned from the table and his lips curved into a full and seductive smile. Thick lashes framed dark eyes and a bold nose added to the complexity of his face. He took her unresisting hand and brought it to his lips, brushing her knuckles with a featherlight press of skin. "Hello, Violet."
Next to them, the hostess looked as if she was ready to pass out. Violet became aware that a good many people in the crowd were watching them and she flushed.
"Nice to meet you," she said in a high voice and cleared her throat.
His eyes sparkled and he nodded to the hostess. "Could you have them send us a bottle of my usual?"
"Of course, Mr. Romano." The blonde gave her one more disbelieving look and left.
Feeling unbearably awkward, Violet quickly sat across the table from him. He gave her a puzzled glance, then moved to sit next to her. "Carlos," he said and lightly rolled the R.
"Huh?" Cursing her inability to form a coherent thought, she tried again. "I mean, pardon me?"
"My name is Carlos." Unable to take the intensity of his gaze, she looked down at his hands on the table. Having worked in a high-end salon as a massage therapist for the past five years, she knew watches and jewelry. And if it wasn't a fake, Carlos wore a Patek Philippe that cost more than her first year of college.
He continued to watch her and she realized he was waiting for her to say something. "Nice to meet you, Carlos."
A small smile lit his face. "I like it when you say my name."
The server brought them the champagne and Violet took a big sip and sighed in appreciation. It was eons better than the champagne she had splurged on for New Years. Clearing her throat, she looked everywhere but at the man sitting next to her. As the silence between them deepened, she tried to desperately think of something, anything to say. She wanted so badly to impress him with her wit, to show him that he hadn't made a horrible mistake by asking her out on a date. The more she panicked the more her mind refused to spit out anything useful. If he didn't say something soon she was going to be forced to talk about the weather.
She took another gulp of her drink and hoped he didn't notice how her hand was trembling. The champagne that moments ago tasted so good turned sour in her mouth as she imagined his disappointment. Instead of the usual stunning beauty who she was sure he was used to, he was stuck with a fat redhead who wouldn't talk. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and found him staring at her.
Carlos didn't reach for his glass, just continued to watch her. "This place makes you uncomfortable, doesn't it?"
"No, it's really lovely." She tried to think up something else to say. "The food smells great." Yeah, that's it, remind him about how chubby you are. Before her mouth could get her into any more trouble, she took another gulp of her champagne.
His lips narrowed into a thin line and he stood. "Come with me."
"What?"
After tracing his fingers down her arm, he wrapped her hand in his. She thought her heart was going to explode from that one gentle touch. "More than anything, I want you to be happy. Please come with me."
Holding his hand, she let him help her up from the table. "Okay." When he looked at her that way, he could have requested a blowjob and she would have dropped to her knees.
Instead of releasing her fingers, he held her hand and led her through the crowd. Women to her left and right shot her envious looks and she kept her gaze focused on Carlos' back. Or more correctly, on his amazing ass and shoulders.
"I took the liberty of ordering for you. I hope you don't mind."
"No," she said and wondered what the heck was going on. They paused before the hostess stand and the lovely brunette gaped at the sight of them holding hands then schooled her features back into a polite mask.
"Have them send the meal to my home." He slipped her a folded bill as a tip.
The hostess made the money disappear with the skill of a magician and smiled. "Of course, Mr. Romano."
Carlos tugged her hand and led her out the front door. A cold breeze blew down the street and she shivered. "Where are we going?" She hoped it wasn't too far; her heels were not made for long-distance walking.
Shrugging out of his jacket, Carlos wrapped it around her shoulders. The warm and heavy cloth smelled like his clean and crisp cologne. His hands trailed down her arms in a caress that made her body tight with desire. "Just a block down to my apartment."
Her shock must have shown in her expression and he took a step back. "Violet, I really want to get to know you. And I want you to know me. I should have realized the restaurant is not the best place for that to happen." He looked at her through his amazing lashes. "I promise to be an utter gentleman. If you want, we can borrow the door guard's can of mace and bring it with you."
That startled a laugh out of her and some of the tension eased from her shoulders. In a perfect world, he would be anything but a gentleman. "That is a lovely offer, but I think I'll pass on the mace."
"But you'll come home with me?" The words were innocent enough, but she detected an undercurrent of heat to them.
Her sister's voice scolded her for even imagining that such an amazing man could be interested in her. She told the voice to shut up and met his oh-so-dark eyes. "Yes."
\*
Two hours later, Violet wiggled her toes in front of the modern stainless steel and black marble fireplace and rotated her stick.
"You know, this is the first time I've ever made smores in the middle of a high-rise." She turned her stick, carefully checking the darkness of the marshmallow.
"Then you have been leading a very deprived life." Carlos thrust his marshmallow into the flames and then blew it out.
Silence met this statement and she removed her marshmallow. His words struck a chord and she was reminded of how out of place she was here. Everything about the apartment indicated wealth and good taste. She was curious about a picture on the wall that had a black cloth draped over it, but was too busy staring at Carlos to give it much thought.
Her finger punched through the hard shell of the roasted marshmallow and she hissed and shook her hand. "Ouch."
"Let me see." Carlos took her finger and, to her astonishment, sucked it into his mouth. The collar of his white dress shirt hung open, revealing a portion of his smooth and muscled chest. Warm and firm, his tongue caressed her finger and he slowly withdrew it from his mouth. After inspecting it, he looked up at her with hungry eyes. "Better?"
The sensuality of the moment robbed her of her ability to speak. A tender smile curved his lips and he said in a soft voice, "Violet, I'm going to kiss you now."
Her body seemed to move of its own accord as she leaned in to meet him and kissed him back with surprising force. Firm, eager, demanding, his lips moved against hers with more passion than she had ever experienced. Drawing back, he turned the kiss gentle, a long and slow series of movements that left her with wet panties.
He looked at her and she ducked her head. A small portion of sanity surfaced past her desire and she was embarrassed at her reaction. He must think she was a nymphomaniac.
"I've been wanting to do this all night. Since the moment I saw you at the restaurant." Instead of going for her breasts, or any other obvious erogenous zone, he plunged his hands into her hair and gently ran it through his fingers. "Fantastic."
The sincerity of his words warmed her more than a glass of brandy and she followed the gentle tug of his hands, pulling her closer. Instead of meeting her lips, he tilted her head back and nibbled a path down her jaw, to her neck. She moaned softly as his teeth tugged at her ear. It had been a long time since she had been with a man who appreciated foreplay.
She hesitated a moment, her hands hovering over his warm body before she placed her palms on his chest and slid them slowly upward, feeling the heat of his firm muscles beneath the soft cloth. His growl against her skin encouraged her and she ran her fingers up his neck. The slight edge of stubble felt wonderful against her fingertips and she laced her fingers behind his neck.
His grip on her hair tightened and she gasped as he licked the hollow above her collarbone. That edge of pain sweetened her pleasure to the point of need. Leaning into him, she cupped his chin and brought his lips back to hers. Their tongues stroked against each other, velvet rasps that had her squeezing her thighs together.
A vague melody interrupted her thoughts and he pulled away with a soft growl. "Your phone is beeping."
"My what?" She tried to pull him back and he laughed, running a hand over her exposed shoulders.
"Your phone."
Blushing, she scooted away from him and walked in her bare feet over to the big mahogany dining table. Fighting to get her phone out of the stupidly small purse, she pretended not to notice him grinning at her. "I, uh better make sure it's not important." What she was really trying to do was get some distance from him. His kisses undid her to the point where she was considering taking him right here in the bright lights. Kenny had always insisted on only making love in the dark. She secretly suspected it was because her body disgusted him.
With these dark thoughts in mind, she checked the text message an unfamiliar number had left on her phone.
Hello, my goddess. I wanted to make sure we are still on for tomorrow night. I'll be waiting for you at Neiman Marcus at 5 p.m. Barney
The reminder that she had another date tomorrow night had the effect of a cold shower.
Carlos surprised the hell out of her when he said from over her shoulder, "I have something to show you."
Her phone clattered to the table as she yelped and startled against him. Strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her close to his body. Feeling the thick bulge of his erection against her lower back, she went liquid and pliant. With a gentle hand, he moved her hair over and whispered into her ear, "You feel so good. Lush and soft like a woman should be."
Pressing back into him, she stiffened as his hands slowly glided downward, skimming over the exposed skin of her chest. Giving her time to protest, he lowered his hands to the top curves of her breasts. If he didn't touch her soon, she was going to scream.
Tracing the edge of the cloth with his fingertips, he dipped his hands fully down the front and cupped her breasts. Rough words in a foreign language stirred against her ear as he pressed into her. Looking down, she watched his dark hands work their way up to her aching nipples. Before he touched them, he slid his hands out and she whimpered.
"Come, I want to show you this before I lose control." He tugged her over to picture covered in black cloth. Grabbing the edge of the material, he turned to look over his shoulder at her. "As you know, I'm a photographer." She nodded and wondered what he was going to show her. "Do you remember the book that we both have in common?"
Unable to find a flippant remark, she just nodded instead. Of course she remembered the book. Every erotic image was seared into her memory. He licked his lower lip and his voice came out in a low growl that turned her on even more, if that was possible. "Some of my work is in that book."
The dark cloth slid off the picture and she couldn't hold back her gasp. Blood pounding in her ears, she stared at the picture of the whip coiled on a woman's ass. Mouth open in shock, she looked from him to the picture. The implications of this revelation clanged around in her head, at once arousing her and alarming her. How could she possibly live up to his standards?
Concern filled his gaze. "I'm sorry. I truly didn't mean to offend you, please---"
The hurt in his voice roused her enough to speak. "No, you didn't offend me." She stepped closer to the picture, admiring the play of light. "It's beautiful."
"Ah. Il mio arrossendo violetta." He nuzzled against her cheek, drawing her close. "Would you like to play with me?"
Uncertainty, fear and desire all mixed together and had her hiding her face against his chest.
"If you are not ready---"
"It's not that."
His hand stroked her hair, smoothing it over her back and caressing her skin. "What is holding you back?"
The truth was too embarrassing to say out loud, she could barely think it. She was afraid of his disappointment when he saw her, in her lack of skills in the bedroom. The evening had been pretty much close to perfect, beyond anything she had dared hope for. She didn't want to end it having to face his regret.
"Do you trust me?" His hands inched down her back, gently gathering her skirt to expose her bottom to the air before dropping the skirt back with a whisper of fabric that tickled against her overly sensitive skin.
Instead of answering, she nodded against his chest.
"I will never abuse that gift." His fingers entwined with hers and he tipped her head up. "We need to talk before this goes any further."
It was so hard to hold his gaze. His dark eyes were intense and serious, seeming to capture her in their depths. She felt as if he saw her more clearly than anyone ever had before. "Okay."
"What are your limits?"
Those words, read a hundred times in her erotica novels but never uttered aloud, set out a chain reaction of desire that burned through her body. He must have noticed because he pressed his hips into hers and she felt the unmistakable bulge of his erection against the softness of her stomach. "Violet, I asked what your limits are and I expect an answer or we stop right now."
He pulled his hips away and stepped back, leaving her illuminated in the spotlight that shone on the painting behind her. Her whole body felt energized, tingling, and she didn't want that feeling to stop. The answer came quickly, not surprising considering how much she thought about BDSM when she was alone and fantasizing. "My hard limits are no blood, no burning, no defecation play and no humiliation."
"Soft limits?" He moved around the open space while she considered what to say, turning off the lights until the only illumination was the fire burning in the hearth and the single spotlight trained on her.
She tried to squint past the glare, tried to see his reaction to her words. Her knees felt weak and wobbly, as if she had run up fifteen flights of stairs. Letting him know her soft limits was somehow more difficult than her hard. Hard limits were lines she would never cross, no matter what. Soft limits were lines that she might cross, given the right situation. Would he try to push her if she told him what her soft limits were? Should she be honest with him or add extra limits to her list just in case he pushed her too far?
His voice came like the snap of a whip from the darkness to her right. "On your knees."
Warmth pooled between her legs and her panties were soaked with her arousal. As gracefully as she could, she sank to her knees. Recalling a favorite scene from one of her books, she spread her legs and placed her palms upright on her thighs. The dress hid her mound from him, but rode up high enough to make her self-conscious. Being like this brought a strange sense of calm and she found she could focus her scattered thoughts enough to answer him honestly. "Whipping, weighted clamps, public service and anal."
"What are your must haves?"
She desperately tried to think of what he meant but couldn't recall ever reading about that term. "My what?"
His voice was a low rumble as he moved behind her. She kept her gaze on the floor, unable to face the intimacy of looking at him. Everything was moving so fast, and she was almost grateful for that. If he gave her too much time to think, her practical side would have her running for the door. Her stomach clenched as she realized that when she was focused on him, answering his questions and following his directions, she had not once thought about how fat she must look in the bright lights or how badly the freckles on her chest and shoulders must stand out.
The warm press of his fingers against her throat made her shiver even though his touch was gentle. Trailing over her skin, his fingertips rested lightly on the banging pulse in the side of her neck. "What turns you on? What things do you require to come?"
"I-I---" She swallowed hard and knew he could feel it. "I don't know," she finished in a whisper.
"Have you ever done anything like this before?"
Mutely, she shook her head and clenched her hands into fists. Her lower lip trembled and she fought back the tears. Now it would come, the rejection she had been preparing herself for the moment she walked into the restaurant. He must have been willing to overlook the fact that she was pale and flabby because he believed that she was knowledgeable about the D/s lifestyle. She was so sure about his response that she tried to move away from his hand, ready to gather her things and leave with as much dignity as she could.
His fingers wrapped around her throat and he crouched down next to her, the solid press of his body a wall of heat at her back. "Did I tell you to move?"
To her disgust, her voice came out thick with unshed tears. "It's okay, you don't have to pretend---"
He fisted his free hand into her hair and tilted her head back. She had no choice but to close her eyes against the bright glare of the spotlight. That movement let free one of the tears she had been blinking back. To her astonishment she felt the warm rasp of his tongue licking the tear from her cheek. "I would never do anything I don't want to do. Rest assured in that. I will always be honest with you and I expect the same courtesy in return." He took a deep breath, his chest pressing against her back as he tilted her head back farther. "The thought of being the first one to fulfill your fantasies, to give you what you need is amazing. I look forward to helping you find what you've been looking for, and to watch you have multiple screaming orgasms."
By the time he was done speaking she was panting and trembling in his grasp. If she wasn't already kneeling she would have fallen to her knees long ago. This magnificent, handsome man wanted her! The idea was so hard to wrap her mind around that she simply gave up trying.
"If you choose to play with me I will expect you to honor me in all things. That means follow my directions, do what I ask of you, and trust me to lead you where you need to go. This beautiful body will be mine to play with however I chose. You may address me as Sir or Master. Do you understand?"
She tried to nod, but his grip on her throat prevented her from moving very much. Instead, she whispered, "Yes Sir."
His hand around her neck vanished and he placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. "You smell like musk and honey. I can't wait to make you melt on my tongue."
His words felt like a hand stroking her soul, warming her from the inside out. The beat of her heart throbbed between her legs and she didn't think she had ever been so turned-on in her entire life. He stood and pulled her up by her hair, not hard enough to hurt but enough so she felt as if he was in control of her. The tug of his hand had her tilting her head back again and this time his lips claimed hers in a kiss that was ruthless and demanding. She melted against him, giving him everything she had in a silent plea.
The fierce smile on his face when he pulled back took what little strength she had left in her knees and she stumbled. To her astonishment, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her down the hallway. Her embarrassment was like a cold splash of water on her body as she imagined him complaining about her weight. His poor back must be ready to give out. At least that's what Kenny said the one time he had to pick her up to carry her after she sprained her ankle while jogging with him.
And that was only with Kenny letting her lean on him. She couldn't imagine how much Carlos was suffering having to hold all of her. Even if he didn't show it. His arms didn't tremble and his pace was strong and sure as he carried her. Pushing at his chest, she said, "I can walk."
He stopped at once in the middle of the hallway and glared down at her. "What did you say?"
She crossed her arms over her chest and returned his glare, hoping to hide her embarrassment. "I said I can walk. You don't have to carry me."
Without another word he put her on her feet and she winced at the darkness of his eyes. She used to think brown eyes were flat, one-dimensional. Not his. They went from a warm, honey brown to almost black when he was aroused. Grabbing both of her hands in his he turned her to face the wall and placed her palms flat against the cool white paint. The light from the living room barely illuminated the hallway, but she could see the edge of his pants brushing against her calves.
With one deft movement, he kicked her legs apart until she stood spread-eagle against the wall. The answering rush of moisture from her pussy showed her body's approval even as her mind tried to figure out what was going on, and if she liked it.
"I carried you because I wanted to carry you. You feel good in my arms and I enjoy having all that softness pressed up against me." His voice came from her other side as his fingertips trailed down her bare back, stopping at the edge of her dress. Goose bumps followed the wake of his touch until it felt as if every hair on her body was standing on end. "Your body is mine to play with, however I choose. But you must be punished for forgetting the most basic rule."
Fighting the urge to turn and face him, she said in a low voice, "I'm sorry, please---"
The cool air of the hallway hitting her bare ass shocked her into silence even as his growl rumbled against her back. She was glad she decided to wear one of the few thongs she owned, at least the black silk and lace looked pretty against her big bottom. "You have a beautiful ass, Violet. Plush and round, just waiting for my pleasure. Now I'm going to turn that pretty ass pink. Forget to call me Sir or Master again and I'll turn it red."
Gripping her hands into fists, she silently berated herself. How could she have forgotten to call him Sir! It was the most basic, the most fundamental command and she had screwed it up. Some sub she was turning out to be. She should have never pretended to be one. Obviously she had no idea how to even do that right.
Her worries trailed away until her entire being was focused on the man at her back, waiting for the first blow to fall. How would he hit her? Would it be hard or soft? What if she didn't like it? Did she dare use her safe word over something as little as a spanking? The smack took her by surprise even as she anticipated it coming. Sharp and stinging, the pain settled into the throb between her legs and she moaned.
Spreading her legs wider, he took a deep breath. "I can smell your arousal."
A moment later another slap stung her, low on her bottom. Not particularly hard, his spanks had her jerking against the wall nonetheless. Here she was, a grown woman, being spanked by an amazingly handsome man like a naughty girl. Pressing back into his hand, she made a guttural sound deep in her throat as he took the edge of her thong and pulled it up tight, pressing the cloth against her aching pussy and tender clit.
Arching her back, she silently pleaded with him to touch her. His fingers moved her hair over one shoulder and pulled at the bow holding her dress in place. With one hard tug he undid the top and the dress puddled around her hips. He lowered her hands and turned her around slowly. Her heart hammered in her chest as she stole a glance at him through her lashes. His dark gaze was so focused, so intent it made her nipples harden further until they ached.
"Beautiful breasts," her murmured before brushing the back of his hand over her tight buds. "Nice, big pink areolas and your nipples are so hard."
He gave her left nipple a flick and she jumped in response. Making a pleased sound deep in his throat, he bent down and lifted her breasts, cupping them in his hands and testing their weight. The hot brush of his lips against her nipple had her clutching at the back of his head. When he took one stiff peak into his mouth she nearly screamed.
Deep and hard, he sucked on her breast until each pull felt as if it were connected to her clit. He released one breast and moved to the other, his hands kneading her with a restless intensity. She watched him, mesmerized by the sight of his dark lips working against her pale flesh, drowning in the sensations he was drawing from her body. She'd never felt anything close to this with any of her previous boyfriends. Sex had always been pleasant, something akin to taking a warm bath. This was like taking a shower in Niagara Falls.
For as long as she'd had boyfriends they'd always been interested in her large breasts, pawing at them every chance they got. She had never particularly enjoyed breast play, but pretended that she did in order to please them. This was different. The scrape of his teeth, the burning sting of his bite notched her arousal up until she was grinding herself against him. He let her nipple go with one last lick and pulled back. "There now, that's a pretty picture."
He cupped a breast in each hand and rubbed his thumbs over her swollen nipples. They were almost twice as long as normal and extremely sensitive to every brush of his finger. "Could you have taken harder play?"
She nodded and he made a clucking sound. "Tell me."
"Yes Sir."
"Yes Sir what?"
She looked up and met his eyes, silently pleading with him to not make her say it. His cold smile did nothing to alleviate her discomfort and he arched a brow, waiting. The warm burn of her ass reminded her of the limit to his patience and she forced the words out. "I could have taken more, Sir."
The sharp pinch of his fingers on her stiff nipple had her gasping. It felt so good, the pain mixing in with the pleasure. The knowledge that what she was feeling, how she was responding aroused him made her relax into his touch. All of his passion was there in his dark gaze. He didn't need to tell her, she could feel how much he wanted her. She was focused on him like she had never been focused on anyone before. His pinch tightened until she was moaning and struggling away from his hand. When he released her nipple, the throb had her rubbing her pussy against his thigh in a desperate attempt to gain relief.
His hands slid down her sides, tugging the dress until it pooled around her feet. He kicked her legs apart again and tossed the dress down the hallway. The light glinted off his dark hair as he crouched in front of her, his face level with the dark square of cloth covering her mound.
"Ahh, Violet. I can see your cream glistening on your thighs. It pleases me to see how much you're enjoying yourself."
Unsure if she should speak or not, she twitched her hips as his breath blew across her inner thigh, cooling the telltale wetness there. If he didn't do something soon she was going to go crazy. As it was all she could think about was his mouth moving just an inch forward, soothing her ache. Hell, all he had to do was blow on her the right way and she would come.
"Do you want me to taste you, Violet? Do you want to show me that beautiful pussy of yours?"
Making a strangled sound she nodded and shivered as he ran his nails down her thighs.
"I didn't hear you."
Damn him, he was going to make her talk about it again. Why couldn't he just take care of her? It usually took her a long time to even get close to the point of climax, and now she trembled on the brink and it was torture. "Please, Sir, put your mouth on me."
"Show me where you want my mouth, Violet."
Blushing furiously, she edged over the soaking strip of black fabric. His deep exhale was warm against her and she shifted her hips. The skin around her clit was soft and smooth from her bikini wax that Bethany insisted on giving her. Every bit of hair was gone except for the small strip of auburn curls directly in the center of her mound. At the time she had been mortified, but now she just hoped he liked it.
"Fucking beautiful." He placed one long lick from the bottom of her slit all the way to the top, stopping just short of her clit. The groan of frustration escaped from her throat before she could stop it and he chuckled. "Tastes like honey. Show me where you want my mouth, Violet," he repeated.
Amazingly, the embarrassment she should have felt was missing. She guessed that her mind and body could only handle so much emotion at once, and every part of her being was devoted to her desire at the moment. Holding apart her wet labia with both hands, she displayed her clit peeking out of its hood for him.
"Good girl," he growled a moment before his tongue gave her a swipe that had her eyes rolling back in her head.
"Do not move," he said in a cold voice before licking in slow circles around her clit. He would lick up one side, then down the other, catching the edge of her hood but never where she needed it the most. Her pussy really did ache now. Not just a dull throb or a swollen feeling, but an actual ache. His hands reached behind and held on to her ass, pressing into the sore flesh and reawakening the burn.
He pulled back and left her standing there, still holding herself open for his gaze. She was hardly aware of the pleading sounds she was making. If she moved her hand just a little bit she could rub herself and would orgasm in seconds. That thought quickly fled her mind as he eased his zipper down and pulled his erection out of his pants. Thick, with a wide head and a slight upward curve, his cock seemed like the answer to her prayers. He squeezed the base and a little drop of pre-cum formed at the tip and glistened in the subdued lighting.
Licking his lips, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a condom. "On your hands and knees, my blushing Violet."
She was on her knees with her ass facing him before he had a chance to open the condom. Spreading her legs wide, she arched her back and offered herself to him. Later she would burn with mortification at the thought of how eager she had been, but right now she would do anything to have him inside her.
Positioning himself behind her, he wrapped his fist in her hair and pulled her up until she was arched uncomfortably, balancing on the tips of her fingers. "I love your hair. It's like holding a handful of silken fire."
He rubbed his cock between her legs and she bucked against his grip, trying to shift her hips and fit him inside where she hurt the most. More teasing strokes through her slick folds until she began to make a sound that was somewhere between pleading and a scream of frustration.
His grip tightened and he pulled his hips back, leaving her cold and empty for a heartbreaking eternity before slamming into her with such force that she fought against his hold on her hair. Too big, he was too big to fit inside her. The brutal width of his cock shoved into her body, seeming to open a path where there wasn't one before. He pressed her face down to the carpet using her hair as a handle but left her bottom up in the air. This angle was a little better but she still felt stuffed full of cock. He stretched her, pushing more and more until she was panting. When he was fully seated inside her, he reached beneath the curve of her hips and began to circle her clit.
Just like that too much became just enough as her arousal shot back up to the unbearable level. He must have sensed the change because he began to move, short jerks of his hips that sent sparks racing through her blood. "So fucking hot. Your pussy is perfect."
She moaned in response, spread wide open as he began to move inside her in earnest. The pressure built and built until her body buzzed with endorphins and energy. Giving her clit a hard pinch he said, "Come for me."
The keening moan seemed to start deep in her stomach and force its way out of her throat as she trembled on the edge of her orgasm. One more pinch on her swollen clit and the world flashed white before her pounding heart obliterated every other noise. The contractions ripped through her and he had to hold on to her hips with both hands as she bucked beneath him. So good, he moved in time with the ripples of her body until she couldn't stand it. He just kept drawing her orgasm out. She thought she was done then he would move inside her and another tensing and releasing of her inner muscles would have her fisting her hands against the carpet.
Holding her hips so tight she couldn't move, he made this raw, sexy noise deep in his throat and slammed into her so deep she could feel the crisp hairs of his pubic area pressing against her bottom. The small pulses of his cock jerking inside her as he ograsmed felt like heaven. She floated in bliss, her body rewarding her with a numbing pleasure that reduced her to a puddle of twitching nerves.
They both groaned when he pulled out and all she could do was curl onto her side on the carpet and try to remember how to breathe. A few minutes later he came back and scooped her up into his arms, carrying her back to the fire. After laying her down in front of the embers, he pulled a burnished gold blanket off the back of the couch and tucked it around her.
Opening her eyes a slit, she stared at him in wonder. The smile that curved his lips warmed her to her toes and when he pulled back the blanket to clean her with a warm washcloth she blushed.
His laugh startled her and she looked up even as she squirmed beneath his touch. Her pussy was hypersensitive and his efficient cleaning was at once too much and just right.
"What's so funny?" she grumbled and pulled the blanket around her.
"I find it amazing that during sex you can be utterly uninhibited, but afterward you blush just as heavily as if I'd never seen you impaled on my cock."
Much to her chagrin, she felt another blush burn her cheeks and cursed her pale skin. It wasn't fair. If he blushed she would never be able to tell because of his natural bronze coloring. And such lovely skin it was, dark and smooth. Now that she thought about it, she really hadn't gotten to see much of his skin at all. He'd kept his clothes on, only pulling down his pants enough to stuff his erection into her. She would love to see the total package.
He tossed the washcloth on the hearth and leaned over, giving her a kiss of such gentle intensity that she felt like purring. The warmth of the fire at her back was nothing compared to the warmth of his body. They lay there like that for a long time, just looking at each other and occasionally reaching out to touch one another. She felt more relaxed than she had in a long time. The top of his shirt gaped open, revealing a tantalizing hint of bare bronze chest.
She frowned up at him and he arched his brow. "I never got to see you naked," she said with a small pout.
He reclined on his side next to her, idly twirling a strand of her hair. Oh God, her hair. She reached her hand up and groaned at the feeling of it sticking up all over the place. There wasn't a gel or hairspray strong enough in the world to keep her curls under control. She must look like an electrified poodle.
He chuckled again and she glared at him while trying to smooth her hair down and keep hold of the blanket. "How am I supposed to convince you to have a second date with me if I didn't have something to tempt you back with?"
She stared at him. Was he serious? Nothing to lure her back with? For the love of God, he just gave the most amazing orgasm of her life, ate toasted marshmallows with her, and rocked her to the core of her soul and he wondered if she would want a second date.
The tip of his finger was cool over her mouth as he outlined her lips. "Don't look so shocked. You are a rare and amazing woman. So full of quiet strength and purpose."
At once embarrassed and pleased, she pushed his hand away and sat up, tugging the blanket securely around her chest. "You don't know me very well."
"You're right, I don't." He traced his finger along the edge of the blanket over her chest and her skin erupted in goose bumps. Despite having had an orgasm to end all orgasms not ten minutes ago, her body heated as his pupils dilated. "Tell me about yourself."
"Uh," she tugged the blanket up higher and leaned back, "well, I'm a massage therapist at the Volun's Spa. In fact, I have to be there at seven a.m. tomorrow to open." He continued to watch her with that focused intensity that made her all too aware of being naked beneath the blanket. Nervous energy had her babbling again. "I have a dog named Adam who has issues about going to the bathroom alone. Speaking of which, I should probably get home before he takes out his displeasure on my rug. I mean he has a doggy door but he just won't go poop outside unless I'm there. Can dogs be anal retentive?" She closed her mouth so quickly she almost amputated her tongue. Which, judging by what she had just babbled out, would have been a blessing. Shit, did she really just tell this gorgeous sex god that her dog was anal retentive?
His lips twitched and he coughed into his hand, clearly trying to hide the fact he was laughing at her. That did nothing for her self-esteem and she suddenly felt very vulnerable with just the blanket around her.
Glancing at the clock behind him, she jumped to her feet and tugged the edge of the fabric up almost to her chin. "Damn, I had no idea it was so late. I'll be lucky if I get four hours of sleep before I have to get up for work."
His full lips firmed into a line, but he let her scurry off to try to find her clothes. She managed to locate her dress, but her thong was nowhere to be seen. A quick glance over her shoulder showed Carlos watching her. Even across the enormous room she swore she could feel the heat of his gaze. If she didn't get out of here right now she may never leave. The thought of facing him first thing in the morning, with the bright light of the sun and no makeup put an extra urgency in her step. No way she was letting him see her without makeup. When she wasn't wearing mascara her eyelashes all but disappeared and she looked like an albino.
After slipping the dress over her head, she quickly located her shoes by the front door. She was so engrossed with jamming her foot into the cute sling-back heel that she didn't notice Carlos was standing next to her until she stood and narrowly avoided bashing him in the face with the top of her head.
"Oh!" She jumped back and wacked her elbow on the door handle. "Shit!"
"I'm sorry, are you all right?" When she tried to pull her arm away he gave her that look that she had come to associate with his Dom side and she meekly let him examine her.
"I'm fine. It's my fault. I'm sorry I'm so clumsy. You should have seen me when my mom tried to make me take ballet in the tenth grade. I ended up at the back of the class by myself because I kept kicking other girls. Not that I really liked the class anyway, I mean I would have rather taken karate but my mom said it wasn't ladylike. As if walking around in a leotard with a class full of camel toes was ladylike." His eyes glittered with suppressed mirth and she forced her chattering mouth to shut.
When she was nervous there was no such thing as TMI.
He made a little choking sound as she brushed past him to retrieve her purse. By the time she returned his face was once again schooled into his usual handsome self, but she could still see his lips twitching. "Thank you for the lovely evening, Carlos."
Pulling a jacket over her shoulders, he slipped on a black leather trench coat that fit his body perfectly and probably cost more than her entire living room set. "I'm walking you to your car." His tone left no room for argument and she swallowed her automatic refusal to accept help. It was one a.m. in downtown Detroit. No matter how posh this section of the city was, she'd be an idiot to walk to her car alone.
As they strolled down the hallway, he slipped his hand into hers and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. Her insides turned to goo and she had to bite back a happy giggle. This man had some powerful mojo. He managed to fuck her silly.
The doorman followed them out and watched them walk down the street together to the parking garage. Carlos moved with a confident grace that she wished she could emulate. Even if she wasn't prancing in heels, she would never be able to pull off a walk like that. He moved as if he owned the world, and he probably did.
Hunching her shoulders against the wind that iced up her skirt and reminded her she wasn't wearing any underwear, she hustled after him then slowed down as she realized he would see her car. Her faithful automobile hadn't seen a showroom floor in twelve years and had the rust spots to prove it. No car got through close to a dozen Michigan winters without some salt damage and hers had more than its fair share.
They entered the parking garage and she tried to think of some way to ditch him before he saw her car. She could afford a new one, but she tried to pay for everything with cash. Her parents had lived above their means on credit for most of their lives and had the bills to prove it. It was through their hard lesson that she learned to budget and save for a rainy day.
She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn't notice that he had stopped walking until he tugged at her hand. Turning to him with a questioning look, he pulled her into his arms. Even in the harsh fluorescent lights of the parking garage he looked too handsome for words. His dark hair was mussed, but instead of looking messy he looked like a sultry cover model for a men's magazine. The soft brush of his lips over hers tingled all the way through her body and seemed to infuse her with heat.
His hand slipped from hers and he captured her wrists. The feeling of being restrained by him made her pussy clench and a little trickle of moisture wet her inner thighs. He opened her mouth with the press of his tongue and gave her a deep kiss, which stole the breath from her body. She literally forgot to breathe, deemed it unimportant, as he kissed her.
Nipping at her lower lip hard enough to sting, he pulled back and released her hands. "There, that's how I like to see you."
"What?"
"You were worrying about something so hard you were going to give yourself a headache. I like you like this." His fingertips trailed along her face, leaving a path of warm fire in their wake. "Soft and open to me without negative thoughts shadowing those beautiful eyes."
She ducked her head and slipped her hand back into his, leading him down the rows to her car. Maybe he was right. Maybe she did spend too much time wrapped up in her own head. But how in the world was she supposed to break a bad habit that was as much a part of her as her red hair and her freckles?
They reached the rear bumper of her white Cavalier and Carlos laughed.
Stung, she hunched her shoulders and said, "What's so funny?"
"This." He spun her around and pointed at her bumper sticker. In sparkly pink letters against a black background it read "Come to the Dark Side. We have cookies." with a picture of Darth Vader in an apron holding a tray of cookies.
Shaking her head, she couldn't help but grin. "That would be Bethany, my best friend. She keeps trying to get me in touch with my dark side."
His grin grew bigger. "Really?" He slowly licked his lower lip and tugged her against him. The press of his erection against her made all the blood in her body rush to her clit in a womb-clenching throb. "What a coincidence, I want to help you get in touch with your dark side too." The leering wiggle of his eyebrows made her laugh despite the sexual heat he was putting off.
"Should I start calling you Sith Lord Carlos?"
A predatory gleam came to his eyes as he dug his fingers into her hips. It didn't hurt, but it made her aware of how much stronger he was than her. "I like that idea." He nuzzled his cheek against her neck. "Oh the deliciously bad things I am going to do to you. By the time I'm done you're going to be begging to join the Dark Side."
She was saved from embarrassing herself by throwing him down on the ground and ripping his clothes off by someone's car alarm going off a few rows over. They jumped back from each other and Carlos ran his hand through his hair while giving her a wicked grin.
She fiddled with her car alarm and disabled it with a perky chirp. "Well, thanks for the...uh...everything."
"Thank you." He put his hands into his pockets and gave her a look filled with heat. "Did anyone ever tell you your eyes are the color of high-quality jade?"
His remark was so unexpected that she paused halfway into her car and stared at him. "No. They're nothing special."
"Whoever told you that was obviously jealous. You're eyes are amazingly beautiful." He gave her a wink and wave as he walked back toward the parking lot entrance.
Turning on her car, she stared at her stunned reflection in the rearview mirror as the engine warmed up. A hint of pink still colored her cheeks and her makeup had smudged a bit. The lipstick that she had so carefully applied was long gone and a faint hint of beard burn colored her jaw. Looking into her eyes, she tried to see what Carlos had seen. Her sister had always called her eyes the color of split pea soup or dirty dish water.
Could he be right? Could Penny have been jealous? The thought was so foreign, so outside of how she saw the world that it seemed impossible. Penny was perfect, the head cheerleader, the stunning prom queen, the president of her sorority. She had married the perfect man, lived in the perfect house, and drove her perfect Mercedes. There was no way Penny ever envied anything about her.
Turning on the stereo, she carefully checked her mirrors before pulling out. The last thing she wanted to do was run over the one man in the world that made her feel alive.
At the ungodly hour of nine a.m., Morgan pounded on the door to Carlos' apartment. When no answer came, he juggled the coffee and bag of doughnuts he brought as a bribe and leaned his elbow onto the doorbell.
And kept it there.
His gut clenched at the thought of Violet answering the door, but he had to know what happened between them last night.
Two minutes later, a very bleary-eyed Carlos clad only in a pair of black boxers answered the door with a snarl. "What!"
Bumping past Carlos, Morgan strolled into the apartment and dumped the insulated cups and doughnuts on the dark granite countertop of the island in the kitchen. Carlos followed not too far behind, lured by the scent of fresh coffee from the café downstairs. Handing him his cup, Morgan took a seat on the counter and ignored Carlos' grumble.
"So, how was your date?" All night he had been distracted by thoughts of Carlos and Violet together. No matter what he tried to do to get his mind off them, he couldn't help but imagine what they were doing while he was trying to finish up a project. His gut would clench when he thought of Carlos touching her, then his cock would get hard as he imagined her reaction. When he found himself painting Violet into a piece of commercial work he was doing for a car company, he gave up and went to bed where he proceeded to masturbate to fantasies about her more than once.
Despite his rampant curiosity, and a healthy dose of jealousy, he had managed to keep from banging on Carlos' door at the crack of dawn.
Carlos closed his eyes and let out a long, slow breath. "She is...amazing."
He waited for Carlos to continue, but his best friend chose to dig through the bag of doughnuts instead. "And?"
"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell." Carlos tossed a blueberry doughnut at him and took a chocolate one for himself.
Morgan snorted and said from around a mouthful of doughnut, "Since when has anyone accused you of being a gentleman?"
Carlos narrowed his eyes and shook his chocolate-glazed doughnut at Morgan. "You just want to know so you can use the information on your date tonight."
A weight lifted from his heart. "You think she still wants to see me?"
Carlos gave him a glare. "She didn't cancel her date with you when she got home, did she?"
"Nope, and I checked my email right before I came to see your pretty face."
Giving him a snarl, Carlos mumbled something that didn't sound like a compliment from around a mouthful of doughnut. Good, maybe Carlos could get a taste of the jealousy that was eating him all last night. He immediately felt bad for wishing foul things on his best friend, but at the same time couldn't argue with how much knowing she still wanted to see him filled him with pleasure. Despite Carlos' way with women, and his ability as a Master, she still wanted to see what he had to offer and that meant he still had a chance.
The glare Carlos continued to give him did nothing to sink his mood. "Can't you give me any hints? Anything she likes?"
Clearing his throat, Carlos moved behind the edge of the counter and adjusted himself. His voice was rough when he answered. "She likes to scream when she comes."
"Asshole." Morgan chucked the remainder of his doughnut at Carlos' head. "Did you do any D/s with her?"
Carlos' voice was still rough as he said, "She's submissive to the bone and has a very kind heart, but no, we didn't do much."
Morgan put on a mock horrified expression. "Master Carlos went vanilla?"
"I didn't say that." He contemplated the last of his doughnut. "Once I got her into the right headspace she responded beautifully, as if she was born for it."
Now it was Morgan's turn to hop down from the counter as his pants tightened around his erection. A true submissive. Doms dreamed of finding a woman like her, and spent lifetimes searching. She was the ultimate prize. All that stood between her and him was his best friend.
Shaking away the pang of guilt mixing with his elation, he tried to keep his voice casual. "Did you show her your dungeon?" Each man had converted the fourth bedroom of their apartment into their own private playroom. Morgan had partied with Carlos and their subs more than once in his playroom and was intimately familiar with his toys. The thought of Violet spread open on the St. Andrew's cross made his cock twitch.
Carlos took a drink of his coffee then gave him a smug grin. "No. I'm afraid we didn't make it any farther than the hallway."
Morgan's grip on his coffee tightened until the cup made a warning squeak. "Tell me everything."
"Nope. You'll have to figure her out on your own."
"Awww, come on, man! Just one hint!" Morgan tossed the half-empty cup into the garbage next to the stainless steel fridge. His nerves were so on edge that he was afraid he was going to spill it all over himself if he tried to drink it. He felt as if he were back in high school, getting ready to go on his first date. Well, maybe not exactly like that. He never wished for his first dates in high school to end up with a girl chained spread-eagle to the wall while he fucked her.
Carlos grunted and tapped his finger against his lip in a mock contemplative pose. "Well, I guess I could tell you one thing."
Trying to appear casual and failing miserably, Morgan made an impatient gesture.
Carlos rolled his eyes. "She likes the finer things in life. Upper-class all the way."
Morgan rubbed the scruff on his chin and quickly rearranged his plans. He was going to take her to a Red Wings game and then to a nice but casual Greek restaurant that he loved. If she had refined tastes like Carlos said, he'd better step his game up. God knows Carlos oozed class and Morgan was going to be damned if he didn't show her just as good a time as Carlos did.
Mind focused on the future, Morgan pulled out his phone and began to scroll through the numbers. "Thanks, man," Morgan said and headed for the door.
Carlos arched a brow and crossed his arms over his chest. "Where are you going?"
"Gotta go. Things to do, women to woo."
As he closed the door he thought he heard Carlos laughing, but wasn't sure.
\*
Violet opened the door for her elderly client and smiled down at her as the white-haired woman handed her a five-dollar tip. "Thank you, Mrs. Slivok, I'll see you next week!"
Already walking straighter, Mrs. Slivok nodded. "You're a miracle worker. I don't know what I would do without you."
"You'd be making Jason a very happy man." Jason was the resident hunk of the spa that all the older women swooned over. He was happily married and Violet adored his sweet Filipino wife, but it didn't stop anyone with estrogen in her body from melting beneath his smile.
Speaking of which, when Violet turned around she spotted Jason at the receptionist's desk trying to avoid the bleach-blonde massage therapist plastered to his side. Calling her a therapist was kind. Bethany, the spa's receptionist and Violet's best friend, referred to her as Wendy the Cock Wrangler. Bethany insisted that most of Wendy's male clients left after less than twenty minutes with her, sweaty and smiling. Violet didn't know if she believed that, Bethany had a tendency to exaggerate, but she did know Wendy was a world-class bitch and saw Jason's refusal to cheat on his wife with her as some kind of fucked-up challenge.
The shapely woman was brushing some imaginary lint off his broad shoulder as he tried to talk on the phone. Bethany was doing her best to run interference from her seat at the glass and chrome front desk. She tried to move the big black leather chair she was seated in between Jason and Wendy, but Wendy merely moved over to the other side and continued to paw at Jason.
Though Bethany was short, she reminded Violet of a tough little housecat who didn't realize she wasn't a panther. Bethany was Chaldean and her Middle Eastern heritage showed in her nutmeg-brown skin and impossibly thick curly black hair that fell in ringlets to her waist. It especially showed when she switched to Arabic to call Wendy several unflattering phrases that she had taught Violet. Bethany and Violet seemed like an odd combination of best friends on the surface, but they had immediately clicked when they met four years ago and Violet valued her friend's honesty and had learned to deal with her lack of tact.
Spray-tanned and cosmetically enhanced, Wendy grated on every one of Violet's nerves. It wasn't just the fact that she constantly threw herself on Jason, it was also the way she treated the other female employees of the salon. It also didn't help that Wendy bore a resemblance to the nurse that Dr. Kenny had dumped her for. They were cut from the same cheap and tacky cloth.
In Wendy's world you were either someone that had to be sucked up to, competition that had to be eliminated, or so beneath her that you weren't even worth noticing. Violet knew which category she fell into. It was apparent in the way that Wendy refused to move when Violet tried to get past her to fill out her client's information in the computer. Clearing her throat, Violet said in a loud voice, "Excuse me."
Wendy glanced over her shoulder with her overinflated upper lip lifted in a sneer. Instead of moving out of the space between the big receptionist area and the wall, she pressed herself against Jason. Bethany chose that moment to give another push with the back of her chair, which turned Wendy's glare from Violet to her. "Your last appointment for the day canceled, Vi, and a package came while you were with Mrs. Slivok."
Jason hung up the phone and Violet moved to the other side of Bethany and dug a bottle of water out of the small fridge beneath the desk. She didn't hear what he said, but Wendy's fake laughter grated in her ear. She stood back up and found Jason safely on the other side of the desk, close enough to the men's room so he could make a break for it if Wendy came after him.
"Talked to Mr. Volun yet, Jason?" Mr. Volun was the owner of the spa and Violet had been nagging Jason to talk to him about Wendy's behavior. So far Jason had refused, claiming that they would never believe him because he was a guy and Wendy made the spa a lot of money, especially with her male clientele.
Violet was to the point where she was going to complain if he didn't. It wasn't right and she was never the kind of person that could stand idly by when someone else was being hurt.
Without looking up from his mail he muttered, "No."
His one-word answer was abrupt, bordering on rude, and she blinked at him in confusion before Bethany said in a chipper voice, "Here's your package, and it came with a note."
Before she could say anything, an elegant box wrapped in royal-blue paper with a gold bow on top was thrust into her hands. Bethany handed her a cream-colored envelope with her name done in elegant cursive on the front.
Shaking the box gently, she asked, "Who brought it?"
"Some older guy in a really nice suit with a ruby pinky ring too big not to be real." Bethany twirled her chair around to face her as Wendy tried to pretend not to be interested.
"Huh." Placing the box on the counter, she opened the envelope and pulled out a thick sheet of cream paper.
My Blushing Violet,
Thank you for one of the best nights of my life. When I told you that you had beautiful eyes, you seemed to doubt me. I hope you'll wear my gift and remember that I never lie.
Carlos
A giddy happiness filled her and she giggled as she reread the letter again.
He thought her eyes were beautiful.
"Well?" Bethany tried to snatch the letter from her but Violet held it to her chest. "What is it?"
"Remember the date that I went on last night? It's from him." While she hadn't filled Bethany in on all the details, she had enjoyed being able to share her excitement with her.
"Ohhhh." Bethany's dark eyes glittered with excitement. "The Sith Lord?"
Wendy made a snort of disgust but Jason finally looked up from his mail with a small smile. "Sith Lord?" he asked and arched his eyebrows.
Ignoring all of them, she carefully slid the bow off the box and opened the lid. It revealed a large black velvet case with an elaborate H embroidered on the front in gold thread.
"Holy shit," Bethany whispered. "Is that from Hendricks?"
Wendy peered over her shoulder and said in a dismissive tone, "It's probably just a knockoff. No guy buys you a present from Hendricks and doesn't give it to you himself."
Violet swallowed and toyed with the small gold catch on the box. "Maybe he just liked the box and reused it."
"For the love of God, open it already," Bethany said as she hit a button on the phone and sent an incoming call to voice mail.
She lifted the lid and gasped. Inside, nestled against white silk, lay a necklace and pair of earrings made of green jade interspaced with creamy pearls. The apple-green stone glowed in the overhead lights and Bethany stood from her chair to look. "Wow."
Unable to form a coherent sentence, Violet stroked her fingers over the beautiful jewelry. She had never owned anything nearly as gorgeous as this. The centerpiece of the necklace was a single creamy pearl as big as her thumbnail.
Glancing up at Bethany, she caught Wendy's stunned expression before she narrowed her lips into a thin line and stomped down the hall. Jason leaned on the counter and let out a low whistle. "That's beautiful. This guy must really like you."
Heat flared in her cheeks as she blushed. "Maybe."
Bethany hooted. "Maybe? Darlin', if a man sends you something like this there is no maybe about it."
Looking closer, Jason glanced between her face and the box. "Nope. He likes you. No guy would pick out jewelry the exact color of your eyes if he didn't like you."
Bethany grinned at him. "Oh, you're right!"
Stunned, Violet continued to run her hands over the jade. This was the color of her eyes? Could it be possible that they were pretty? The foundation of her world shifted as she considered the ramifications. Was it possible that all those years of putdowns by her sister had led her to actually change how she viewed herself? The thought made her feel sick and her stomach twisted into a hard knot.
"Earth to Violet. Your cell phone is beeping."
"Huh?" She put the box down on the counter with a longing glance and fished her phone out. A text message was waiting for her.
Violet, I can't wait to see you. I'll be waiting for you at the fountain in front of Neiman Marcus in Troy at 5 p.m. Barney
"Oh crap." Violet jammed her phone back into her white work pants and ran a hand through her braid, which was starting to come unraveled. Thank God her work was only a few minutes away in West Bloomfield. "Glad my last appointment canceled. Barney wants to meet me in front of Neiman Marcus in an hour. I thought I was supposed to meet him there at five thirty, but he wouldn't say what we are doing. How am I supposed to dress for a date when I don't know what to wear? Should I wear something nice? What if we go rock climbing? If I wear a pair of jeans and some sneakers we could end up at some fancy dance club and I'll look like his ugly little sister. Not that I know if he even has a sister. What if he has a beautiful sister and I meet her and she thinks I'm ugly? Thank God I let you wax me because I never would have had time to shave and no one wants a prickly---"
Bethany shouted, "TMI!" while Jason stared at her. Even though he knew her well enough to be used to her vocal freak-outs, he certainly didn't need to hear about her personal hygiene.
"Barney?" Jason asked and shut the jewelry box, tugging it away from Bethany and handing it to Violet. She took the jewelry and felt a sharp pang of guilt. What kind of woman was she that she accepted jewelry from one man that she had just had sex with before going out on a date with another man? True, Bethany was always telling her that sex didn't equal love, and commitment took two people, but she couldn't help hearing the mental voice of her mother chastising her for being a slut.
Bethany laughed and clapped her hands together, snapping her out of her morose thoughts. "I'm so excited for you!" Catching Violet's look of panic she rolled her eyes and wrapped Violet's hands around the jewelry box. "Go get your bag out of your car and bring it back in here. I'll help you get dolled up, and you can go meet mystery man number two. Have a great time and don't forget to call me when you get home. After my dating dry spell, your nights out have become the highlight of my life."
"That is so sad on so many levels."
"Tell me about it." Bethany's brown eyes sparkled as she herded Violet out the door and handed her her purse and keys. It never failed to astonish her how Bethany could move faster than the speed of light and get you to do what she wanted by sheer force of will.
Shaking her head, Violet headed out into the fading afternoon light and smiled.
\*
Violet stood frozen in the middle of the crowded mall and became a rock, which the stream of people flowed around. In all of her most wild imagining she had never, ever predicted that Barney was one of her most naughty fantasies come to life.
Literally.
With his shoulder-length blond hair pulled back into a black leather thong, he looked like a Viking in a thousand-dollar pearl-gray suit. It had to be custom made, nothing else would have fit his big body so well. Especially that thick neck and those impossibly broad shoulders. He leaned against the edge of a fountain displaying a massive marble ball seemingly rotating on its own axis like a planet.
A very fitting backdrop for a man who had the magnetic draw of the sun. Women hovered around him, shooting admiring glances and blatant come-hither looks his way. He ignored them all and scanned the crowd.
She quickly ducked behind a stand selling sunglasses and wiped her sweating palms on her brown suede skirt. It wasn't the fact that he was devastatingly handsome that was causing her panic attack. She knew him. Knew every inch of that perfect profile, but this was the first time she had seen it in anything but black and white.
Barney was one of the men from the BDSM photography book that she had listed on her profile. She was used to seeing him frozen in time, giving the woman on her feet before him a look of such dominance that it never failed to make her panties wet. She knew how good he looked with his shirt off, in a pair of black leather pants with that thick blond hair falling loose over his neck.
She had to get out of here right now. The humiliation of seeing his disappointment at the sight of her shriveled her stomach into a tight ball of misery. Dressed in her best skirt and cream angora sweater she had felt pretty when she left the spa. Now she felt fat, frumpy and hopelessly outclassed.
"Violet?" a deep voice rumbled from behind her and she jumped, scattering a bunch of sunglasses to the floor with a plastic clatter.
Her worst fears came true as she turned around and found Barney smiling at her. "That's me," she said in a squeak before dropping to her feet and picking up the sunglasses. When she looked up she found him beaming down at her and was reminded that they mirrored the position in the BDSM book. Heat seared through her veins and she gathered the sunglasses with shaking hands.
"I didn't mean to scare you," he said in a soft voice as he crouched next to her and helped her return the sunglasses to the display. "I thought I saw you, then you vanished."
She couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't make her sound like an idiot. When his warm hand slipped into hers, she nearly hyperventilated. So big, his hand engulfed hers in rough heat.
"Morgan," he said in a low voice as he tugged her back toward the fountain.
"What?" Being this near to him scrambled her senses until all she could do was stare up at him.
"My name is Morgan." He gave her a wink that made her heart pound harder, if that was even possible.
"My name really is Violet," she said in an embarrassingly breathless voice. "I'm named after my great-aunt Violet. She's eighty-five years old and still makes my mom bring a monthly copy of Playgirl to her in the nursing home. She and the other old ladies all gather in her room together and the one with the best eyesight reads the erotic stories at the top of her lungs to the others, 'cause a lot of the ladies have hearing problems. You haven't lived until you hear an old woman yelling about balls slapping off someone's ass."
Morgan stared at her and she wanted to die. Her runaway mouth didn't help the situation. "I don't have Tourette's Syndrome. I just babble when I get nervous."
To her shock, he threw back his head and roared with laughter, drawing startled gazes and answering smiles from the passing crowd. As his chuckles tapered off into wheezes she tried to pull her hand out of his. His grip tightened and the last of the laughter faded from his face. "Would you like to know what we're going to do tonight?"
He still wanted to go out on a date with her? Confused, she wet her lips. "Sure."
It must have been her imagination, because she swore his pupils dilated as he focused on her mouth. His voice was certainly deeper as he said, "Though you look delicious in that sweater, I'm going to take you shopping for a dress more appropriate for what I have planned for you."
She frowned and tried to tug her hand away again. "I have my own money, you don't---"
He tugged her closer until their bodies were separated by only the smallest of distances. She could actually feel the heat radiating off him and his cologne, sharp and masculine, filled her nose. "Please let me do this for you. I grew up dirt poor and always wished I could buy nice things for my mom and my sisters. I enjoy being able to spoil beautiful women."
When he put it like that, how could she say anything but, "Okay."
All the blood in Morgan's body seemed to rush to his cock when Violet came out of the dressing room in the gown he had asked her to try on. Champagne-gold chiffon fell in a graceful wash of fabric around her full hips and his mouth watered at the way the top of the dress mounded her generous breasts together. The golden color brought out the deep auburn tones in her hair and it flowed down her back like a waterfall of burning embers.
She was walking sex, though she didn't seem to be aware of it.
Fisting her hands at her sides, she darted a glance up at him then back down at the floor. The matronly store clerk beamed at her as Morgan tried to get his vocal chords to work. She was such a delicious blend of sass and softness. Her vulnerability tugged at every Dom instinct he had and he wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and show her how beautiful she was. But they hadn't reached that point...yet.
"You look amazing," he growled and cleared his throat.
She laced her hands together in front of her and lifted her chin to meet his eyes. "Thank you." Her natural voice was low and husky and he couldn't wait to hear her call his name as she screamed her orgasm. A soft blush warmed her cheeks and he delighted in the effect he had on her.
It had been hard to pull her out of her shell at first. Only after asking her to try on increasingly hideous dresses had he finally been able to get her to look him in the eye and stand up for herself. While he liked submissive in the bedroom, he didn't want a doormat of a woman. The fact that she only let him push her so far pleased him and he admired her all the more. Beneath all that softness she had some untapped strength that he wanted to help her explore.
"We'll take it."
"Excellent." The clerk beamed at him and snipped off the price tag with a small pair of scissors. She kept Violet from seeing the price with a deft move and Morgan was thankful. Despite what Carlos had told him about Violet liking luxury, she had been highly uncomfortable while looking at the dresses. He had to turn on the charm and work at making her relax, but he didn't miss how he physically affected her. When he had brushed aside a stray lock of her hair her cheeks had turned pink with a blush and her lips had softened as if for a kiss. It took all of his willpower not to pull her behind the rack of gowns and make her burn.
He stood and tugged his jacket down to hide his erection. Violet must have noticed because her full lips parted and she took in a quick breath. Her reaction pleased him and he held out his arm to her. "Shall we?"
She hesitated, then slipped her hand inside his elbow. "Where are we going?"
"To the opera at the Fox Theater."
\*
Violet slid into the waiting limousine, very aware of the envious looks of the women they passed and surprised by the appreciative glances she was receiving from the men. It had to be the gown, it was so beautiful and so beyond her budget. She internally winced at the thought of how much it cost, but the memory of the way Morgan's eyes lit up when he saw her helped ease the guilt at such an extravagant purchase.
While they shopped he had talked about growing up in the ghetto of Detroit to a mother without an education and too many mouths to feed. Her heart had ached for him as he joked about having to wear two different shoes to football practice and how his coach had bought him the first brand new pair of sneakers he had ever owned in his entire life. When he mentioned his football scholarship playing for the University of Michigan she wondered if he knew her older sister, Penny, who had been a cheerleader for the team. It was hard to judge how old he was and she didn't want to offend him by asking. She also didn't want to bring up her gorgeous, vivacious sister who had a taste for football players before she married. The last thing she wanted to hear was that he had dated Penny.
He was so not what she expected. A barbarian with the manners of a prince. As she scooted over to make room for him, he pulled her closer until they rested hip to hip. Nerves had her fiddling with the soft falls of the dress more than necessary. He was so big and alive, it was impossible not to be aware of the heat of his body pressed to hers.
"So, uh, why did you sign up for the dating service? Women have to be throwing themselves at you everywhere you go." She winced and avoided his gaze. Way to go, nice job of reminding him that he could be with any number of elegant women instead of you.
He pulled her hand into his and she couldn't help but notice how he kept touching her. Not that she minded in the least. Heady arousal zinged through her body with every brush of his fingers. "I wanted to find someone I could be myself with. Someone I could talk to and not have to stick to the topics of celebrity gossip and tiny dogs that some women seem to change out like purses."
She blinked at him in surprise. "Oh." The streetlights illuminated his face briefly and she was struck by the hunger in his gaze. That unnerved her and she tried to fill the silence. "I have a dog, he's a big, fat lab named Adam. The only kind of accessory he could be is a steamer trunk."
He laughed softly, and somehow even that sound tightened her nipples. A memory of his picture in the BDSM book seared through her mind and she licked her suddenly dry lips. He leaned closer, the heat of his body warming her skin as he said, "Violet, I'm going to kiss you now."
Her heart slammed in her chest as he cupped her face in his hands. The way he studied her and slowly closed the distance between them had her trembling. He was so intense, so focused on her. When his lips pressed against hers a soft moan worked its way out of her throat and her pussy tightened. Strong and gentle, he kissed her as if he had all the time in the world. His thumbs stroked the side of her face and she relaxed into his touch, even as her body grew swollen with desire. He tasted like mint and his lips were so warm against hers.
And then he showed her why he was a Dom.
He opened her lips with his own and she trembled. The ruthless sweep of his tongue stroked against hers, demanding a response. She raised a tentative hand and stroked the side of his face. His kiss turned savage and she welcomed his strength. The car slowed to a stop and he broke the kiss, keeping his mouth right next to hers as he said, "Violet, I want you to do something for me."
The brush of his lips against hers had her leaning in for another kiss. He made a low growl and gave her what she wanted, what she needed. As the car started to move again she trailed her fingers down the side of his face to his neck where his pulse pounded in a strong rhythm.
"Violet?" he asked with a soft chuckle.
"Hmmm?" She tried to pull him back in for another kiss but he smiled and held her back.
"I want you to wear something for me."
His words penetrated the fog of lust surrounding her mind and she scolded herself for acting like a hussy. She practically threw herself on him, and to make it worse she had just had amazing sex the night before with a different man who she was still totally interested in seeing again. Here she was, kissing another man after spending last night with Carlos. Not at all what a proper woman would do. Her mother would be appalled. She flinched away from him and tried to look over his shoulder rather than into his eyes.
"What was that thought?"
She avoided his gaze and lowered her hand from his neck. "Aren't I already wearing something for you?"
His hazel eyes examined her and she felt as if he could see right through her lie. After a tense moment, he opened the small bar on the side of the limo and pulled out a narrow black box from within. Her heart raced as she took the box with numb fingers and stared at it. Guilt pinged through her as she clutched it and remembered her joy at receiving Carlos's gift earlier today.
"I would like you to wear this for me."
She fumbled with the box and would have dropped it if it wasn't on her lap already. Relief mixed with excitement and brought her breath out in a rush. Instead of jewelry, a small silver sex toy that she was intimately familiar with made her clit swell in anticipation. It was a long and narrow curved vibrator with a little black box with buttons next to it.
His hands stroked against her wrist as she stared at it and her nipples drew to aching points. "It's remote-controlled. The vibrations are almost inaudible. I'd like you to wear it for me while we're at the opera."
Her jaw dropped as she stared at him. He took out the little black box and grinned at her with wicked delight. Instead of slipping the remote into his pocket, he pressed it into her palm. "You will be in control of how much stimulation you're receiving." He cupped her neck with his hand, his thumb stroking her collarbone. "But, if you would like to give me the controller at any point I promise you it will be worth it. Will you do this for me, my Violet?"
The dark tone of his words raced through her blood like a drug and she nodded at him. He took the box out of her unresisting hands and slowly gathered up her dress, lifting it up her legs. In the dim interior of the limo she hoped that he couldn't see the dimples in her thighs, or the way she shook. None of that really seemed to matter when his finger stroked over her soaking-wet panties.
"So warm." He used the tip of his fingernail to trace the outline of her clit. "Fantastic."
She arched into his hand, the leather of the seat creaking as her body pleaded with him. He leaned back against the side of the limo and crossed his arms, his face unreadable in the shadows. Her heart raced in her chest as she slid over her panties just enough to slip the cool metal between the wet lips of her labia then pulled them back in place. The way the vibrator curved made it fit perfectly against her, pressing down on her clit. Even without it being on she shifted her hips at the pleasurable pressure. His fingers twitched and she felt a warm flair of satisfaction at the knowledge that she was affecting him.
"Thank you." He glanced out the window behind him and turned back with a smile. "Almost there. I hope you like The Marriage of Figaro."
She desperately wished she had paid more attention during her high school music appreciation class. Her tastes tended to run more toward hard rock and pop. The soft gown fluttered back into place around her legs as she tugged it down. "To be honest, I've never been to an opera before. The only time I've been to the Fox has been for concerts and once to see The Nutcracker with my mom when I was a little girl."
He frowned and shifted in his seat. Anger tightened his jaw but his gaze wasn't focused on her. "You don't like the opera?"
Great, here he was going to an obvious effort to make her happy and she sounded like an ungrateful bitch. "Oh no, I didn't mean that. It's just that I've never been to one before. I guess I'm more of a jeans and a beer kinda girl." She cleared her throat and tried to think of something to say that would displace the sudden chill in the car. "I-I'm sorry. I really am excited to go to the opera with you."
Miserable, she turned away from him as the limo shifted into park and the driver came around to their door. The red and gold lights of the Fox Theater gleamed beyond the darkness of the tinted windows and elegant couples strolled beneath the 1920's marquee.
"Don't be sorry. I'm sorry that I misjudged you." He trailed a finger over her wrist and her body relaxed even if her mind was still yelling at her for messing this up. "Would it make you feel any better to know this is my first opera too? That I wouldn't know who Figaro is even if I met him on the street and he was wearing a name tag?" He ran his hand through his hair, forgetting that it was still tied back and messed it up. "I wanted to impress you so I did an internet search about the opera this afternoon. It's actually a really cool story."
A giggle bubbled up in her throat and she leaned over, tugging at the black leather hair tie. Unable to help herself, she ran her fingers through his hair. Thick and soft, it felt wonderful and his rumbling growl tightened her nipples into hard points. His enthusiasm shone from his eyes and she realized that this was a man who led his life with gusto and she wished she had even a tiny portion of his confidence. "What's it about?"
"It's about a wedding, but not really. It's more about a fickle count who wants a girl that he can't have. At the center of the story is a woman named Susanna who two men want but only one man will have." A dark look passed over his face and he pulled her against him, giving her a searing kiss that left her dizzy.
Before she could second-guess herself, she pressed the tiny remote control for the vibrator into his hand. "Then let's make this more interesting for both of us."
\*
Later that night Violet was extremely thankful that the seat next to hers was empty. They sat in the front row of the balcony and the opera was into its third act. Below, the villagers were singing a song to the count, proclaiming his greatness for not enforcing the old pagan rule about having sex with his servant's intended bride. She would have been laughing at the count's obvious anger, if not for the subtle buzzing between her thighs.
Well-crafted, the vibrator made no discernable noise as it brought her closer to the edge of orgasm. Morgan kept his eyes on the opera, but he stroked the palm of her hand with his fingertips, his lips twitching into a smile as she startled when he ramped the speed up. If they had been anywhere else she would have been on her hands and knees by now, begging him to let her come.
Her whole body ached with the need for release and her clenching thighs did nothing to relieve her discomfort. He would bring her to the edge and keep her dancing there, trembling with the effort to not moan. Every once in a while he would lean over and whisper her a compliment on her control, praising her for following his command to not come until he gave her permission.
The absolute power that he had over her pleasure added a delicious layer of spice, as did the knowledge that the rest of the world had no idea about the wicked games he was playing with her. The vibrator stopped all together and her breath came out in a low moan of need. Morgan cleared his throat and she hungrily eyed the bulge of his hard cock pressing against his gray pants. His fingertips traced a circle on her palm and it felt as if he had a direct line to her clit. Every slow circle had her shifting until she wanted to scream.
She leaned over and whispered into his ear, "I hurt." The ache between her legs bordered on pain and her hypersensitive pussy was swollen and pounding.
Concern filled his voice as he said, "Good hurt or bad hurt?"
She paused, trying to honestly answer his question. "Good and bad. It's...too good if that makes any sense."
Without another word he pulled her to her feet. As they made their way down the stairs he called for the limo to meet them out front. The lovely tenor of a man's voice echoed in the lobby even through the closed doors of the theater. For a moment she regretted leaving the magical darkness where he had tormented her with such skill, but a more animalistic side of her nature had surfaced and it demanded satisfaction.
They waited at the front doors, neither saying a word as they watched each other. His eyes were dark with desire and flicked from her breasts to her face. She could feel the scrape of the cloth against her chest and knew without looking down that her nipples stood out like pencil erasers. Her panties were soaked and moisture coated her inner thighs, cooled by the occasional draft coming from the crack between the doors and up her dress.
When the sleek black limo pulled up, Morgan didn't even wait for the driver to open the door. Tugging her after him, he pulled her into the limo and immediately onto his lap. They both scrambled to pull the layers of her dress up, revealing her thighs glistening with her cream. She quickly removed the vibe and he took it from her hand. With his eyes on her, he licked her moisture from the warm metal with his very talented tongue. Excitement and anticipation made her feel alive and very needy for his touch.
"Please," she whispered and tugged at his pants.
He put the vibrator in his jacket pocket. "No."
She almost started to cry and he laughed softly, slipping the straps of her gown over her shoulders. The air hitting her nipples had her moaning an instant before his teeth closed on one rigid peak and he sucked hard. Now she did cry out, burying her hands in his hair and holding him to her chest. With his free hand he tore at her panties, sliding them down her legs and over her high heels.
In a state of arousal beyond embarrassment, she spread her legs wide and offered herself to him. With his teeth on her nipple, his hand cupping her pussy and pressing down, she gripped his shoulders as her orgasm finally broke free. The world went blank, becoming only waves of pleasure.
"That's it," he growled and plunged one finger into her wet heat. The intrusion gave her body something to grab on to and she thrust herself on him. Her hips jerked against him as she rode the long, slow waves of her release, each contraction gripping his finger within her.
His breath came out hot against her neck as he bit her pulse with a sharp sting. She moaned and titled her hips, taking his finger as deep as she could. More, she wanted more. Usually after an orgasm, it took her a good hour or so to become aroused again, but her body slipped right back into a heightened state of need with an ease that astonished her.
Despite her protests, he removed his finger and sucked it clean with a groan. Tugging at his tie, he said, "You taste delicious."
She hungrily watched him as he took off first his jacket, and then his shirt in the confines of the limo. At the sight of his heavily muscled torso and the soft blond curls of his chest hair, her breath came out in a rush. He had the body of someone who spent some serious time in the gym and she tried to suck in her stomach without being obvious about it.
He grabbed his tie and pulled her against him, groaning in delight as she nuzzled his chest. "God, I love a soft woman. You have no idea how good you feel pressed up against me." He traced the silk tie over her shoulders and she shivered at the sensation. "Violet, I'm going to blindfold you. Do you have a safe word?"
If anyone was going to be blindfolded, she wished it would be him so he couldn't see her body. "Um---"
His voice dropped an octave and turned cold. "Um is not an answer."
She ducked her head and stared at his small, erect nipple. "Yes Sir. My safe word is crimson." He tensed against her and she wondered if she had disappointed him somehow. Wanting him to want her, she reached a tentative hand up and stroked it over his chest, delighting in the feel of solid muscle beneath the fine layer of golden hair. When he didn't protest she gave in to her desire and softly drew his nipple into her mouth, enjoying the way he shifted his hips and made an incoherent noise of pleasure.
With a groan he kissed his way up her neck and rubbed his face against her cheek, the stubble of his beard scraping her skin. "Lift your hair."
She became very aware of her breasts as she did as he asked, catching her breath as the world went dark when the silk covered her eyes. Deprived of the sight of him, she startled when he gave each of her nipples a quick, stinging bite. More small, sharp nips followed along the curve of her breast, sending little bursts of pleasure and pain until her skin was hypersensitive. She wished she could see him, could watch him touch her, but it wasn't what he had in mind.
Even though her feminist side said it was wrong, she loved that she was at his mercy, that he was making all of the decisions for her. Deep in her heart she knew that this would all end with just one word from her and that gave her a sense of safety, which allowed her to relax and enjoy his attentions. And what attentions they were. He had returned his focus to her nipples, mounding her breasts together and going from tip to tip with hard sucks and soft licks.
She tensed when he pulled back, waiting for him to return. The only noise in the limo was the sound of the rumble of pavement beneath the tires and their breath.
Without a word, he lifted her and helped her shimmy out of her dress until she sat before him, naked and panting. Feeling very exposed, she tried to sit in a way that would keep her stomach from pouching out. He was probably used to skinny women that threw themselves on him at the gym. Lord knows she wouldn't be able to do anything but drool if she saw him while he was working out.
He pulled her forward and quickly flipped her until her hips were up in the air and her chest and arms rested on the seat of the limo. Part of the leather pressed against her was warm from her body, the other part was chilly and felt good against her aching nipples. The slightest brush had them stinging and she wondered if she would need to ice them down when she got home.
"Look at the pussy," he said in a low voice. "Tell me, Violet, do you want to come?" He punctuated his question by giving her clit a hard flick that tore a cry from her.
"Yes Sir."
A packaged ripped open followed by the hiss of a zipper. He leaned over her body, covering her with his weight and pressing her down into the seat. The slick feel of his condom-covered cock rubbing between her wet labia seemed so much more intense behind the darkness of the makeshift blindfold. If what she felt was true, he was a very big boy.
"I wish we had more time," he said as he positioned the head of his cock at her swollen entrance. "But I'm going to die if I don't fuck you right now."
Her moan of agreement changed into a harsh cry as he grabbed her hips and pulled her back on his cock, hard. He stretched her, pushing into her with brute force that had her digging her nails into the leather of the seats. Just before it became too much, he slipped one hand beneath her and massaged her clit with a skilled touch that sent her rocketing toward another orgasm.
"Ahh, that's it," he said in a deep chuckle as she pressed her bottom against him until he was buried as deep as he could go. He massaged the swollen tissue around the hard nub, bringing more blood to her pussy until it pounded with the beat of her heart. The delicious sensation of his cock slowly dragging out of her was its own kind of torture and she arched her back, offering herself to him.
As her body adjusted to him she marveled at his strength. He easily held her up with one arm until she was up on the tips of her fingers while he continued his slow, sure strokes. Her thighs stretched wide apart as she straddled his lap, entirely held in place by him. She tried to move, but he nipped the back of her shoulder with a warning growl.
He rocked in and out of her, occasionally brushing against her nipples with the edge of his knuckles. It hurt to try to hold herself off him, so she relaxed into his embrace and leaned fully into him.
"So fucking beautiful," he rumbled from behind her. "I want to fuck you in front of a mirror like this so you can see how hot your cunt looks with my cock stuffed inside it."
Her body tightened around him as his words painted an erotic picture in the darkness behind the blindfold. It was like having an incredibly intense fantasy, and being thoroughly taken at the same time. His hand slipped down over the curve of her stomach and stroked against her exposed clit. As he did this he kept himself almost totally inside her, moving with the twitch of her hips as she swiveled in time with the strokes of his hand. He ran his fingers lower, touching where her body joined his and gathering the moisture there. Fingers slick, he returned to tormenting her clit. She tensed against him, almost to the edge but not quite. The musk of their lovemaking scented the air and he grasped her hard nub between two fingers, rolling it back and forth.
That was all she needed and she screamed as her second orgasm surged through her body in a wave of incredible tension dissolving into rolling contractions. He held her close, pounding into her as she twitched and moaned, impaled on his cock.
With a final thrust, he made a deep, harsh groan that was one of the most erotic sounds she had ever heard. So very male, the vibration traced through her body and made her shiver. He continued to hold her and whispered into her ear how beautiful she was, how lucky he was to have such a good little submissive. He lifted her off him and set her back on the seat. She shivered as the cool leather met her overheated flesh and blinked rapidly when he removed the tie he had bound around her eyes.
She tried to adjust to the dim interior light of the limo, which suddenly seemed bright after the darkness of the makeshift blindfold. Morgan tucked himself back into his pants and gave her a grin that was as wicked as any she had ever seen. Before putting on his shirt, he helped her back into her dress, giving each of her sore nipples a gentle kiss before sliding the chiffon back up in place.
They settled back into the seat and Morgan pulled her onto his lap with a content sound. They were almost back to the mall where her car was parked and she marveled at how wrapped up in him she had been. While they were having sex, time became irrelevant.
He placed a kiss on her forehead. "Would you like to come home with me tonight? I can't promise that I don't snore, but I can say that I make the best waffles this side of the Mississippi."
She sighed and played with the small portion of his chest showing between the edges of his shirt. "I can't. I have to go antiquing with my Aunt Penelope in the morning. If I don't show up she'll think I hate her and write me out of the will."
"Seriously?"
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah. Aunt Penelope has her lawyer on speed dial. I don't want to take the chance of my sister getting her vast collection of Elvis refrigerator magnets and Lawrence Welk records instead of me."
"When can I see you again?"
She turned her face against his chest so he wouldn't see her pleased smile. "I get my work schedule for next week tomorrow. I'll email you and let you know."
The limo slid to a smooth stop and the voice of the chauffer sounded from the intercom. "Sir, what level is the lady's car on?"
Morgan looked at her and she said, "Level three. It's a white Cavalier with a couple bumper stickers on the back."
He relayed her instructions to the driver and she shifted off his lap. In the back of the limo she felt as if she were in another world, one of luxury and incredible mind-blowing sex. She didn't want to leave, didn't want to stand out beneath the harsh glare of the florescent lighting that always made her skin look like pale, freckle-covered cheese. She grabbed her purse from the other side of the limo and dug through until she found her keys.
The limo stopped before her car and the driver opened the door for her with a polite smile. Scooting across the seat, she paused and felt the heat of a blush burning her cheeks. Morgan raised his eyebrows and she whispered, "Where are my panties?"
He chuckled. "In my pocket." His lips brushed her ear as he leaned forward and said in a low voice, "I'm going to wrap them around my cock tonight when I think about you and jerk off."
"Oh," she said in a soft sigh as the carnal image seared itself into her brain. She stumbled out of the car and the driver went back inside after a nod from Morgan.
They stood facing each other and she sighed in despair. He looked just as good in florescent lighting as he did anywhere else.
He lifted her chin with his finger and examined her face. "Are you okay?"
She nodded. "Yeah. I was just thinking how unfair it was that you look like some Greek sex god come to Earth to give women multiple orgasms while I look like sick cheese in this lighting."
He blinked at her. "Greek sex god?"
She covered her face with her hands in embarrassment. He was so easy to be around that she had talked to him like she would talk to her friends, not like the amazingly handsome date that he was.
As she berated herself for being the antithesis of smooth, he pulled her hands away from her face and kissed her palms. "I would love to role-play a virgin sacrifice with you sometime. I would get to be the god that needs to be pleased and you would be my delicious plaything."
She swallowed and stared up at him. "Okay."
Soft and firm, his lips brushed across hers in a kiss that sent a quick bolt of heat through her body. "Good night, my Violet. I look forward to hearing from you soon."
"Good night."
He waited until she was in her car and turned it on before getting back into the limo. As they pulled away she looked at herself in the rearview mirror and wondered how she had gotten so lucky as to have two of the most amazing dates of her life in less than forty-eight hours. The little voice of her mother told her not to get too attached, that Carlos' and Morgan's temporary insanity would lift and they would soon realize how beneath them she was.
For the first time in a long time, she squashed that voice and relished the blessed silence in her own head.
Violet hummed along with the gentle music coming from the speakers overhead. Mrs. Delfin liked to listen to classical while she was getting her massage and Violet enjoyed moving with the music. The scent of eucalyptus and lemongrass gave the air a clean and herbal smell as she worked the massage oil into Mrs. Delfin's arthritic hands.
At eighty-three, Mrs. Delfin felt as delicate as tissue paper beneath her hands. She marveled at how soft her skin was and how it felt like a baby's, despite the wrinkles. Joints swollen and tender relaxed beneath her gentle touch as she worked one finger and then the next. Mrs. Delfin had been coming to her for four years and they knew each other well.
Mrs. Delfin's husband had passed away two years ago and she had begun coming in once a week instead of once a month since then. While Mrs. Delfin told her friends that it was for her arthritis, she confided in Violet that she missed being touched. Not in a sexual way, but human beings are social creatures and crave the touch and comfort of another person. She got plenty of hugs and kisses from her grandchildren, but those were different. A massage was just about her feeling good. Violet couldn't imagine what it would be like to have the loving arms of your husband around you for forty-eight years and suddenly have them gone.
The elegant melody of a piano blended into the harmony of the clarinet as she moved on to the long muscles of Mrs. Delfin's arms. Her thoughts drifted over the past three weeks and her heart soared along with the music. She had spent almost every night with either Morgan or Carlos and had the blissed-out mind and aching body to prove it.
The morning after her first date with Morgan, she found a lovely message from Carlos asking her out to dinner. Morgan had called her later that day and asked to take her to dinner that night. She'd considered lying to him about the reason why they couldn't go out, but in the end she simply told him she had another date that night. He acted as if it was no big deal and they made plans for later that week.
That scene repeated itself a few days later when she'd already made plans with Morgan and Carlos wanted to spend time with her. With her heart in her throat she'd told him she had a date with another man that night, but instead of calling her a whore or a bunch of other bad things, he'd simply asked her if the night after that was free.
Never, in all of her years on Earth, could she imagine that she would be dating two utterly charming, handsome, and amazing men at once without having to hide it or lie.
Morgan had spent the night last night at her house and the memory of him making breakfast in the nude was one she would never forget. Especially since she had been tied to her kitchen chair at the time with a vibrator humming inside her. For a man that was such a demanding Dom in the bedroom, he had a nurturing streak a mile wide. It shouldn't surprise her. After all, he had basically been the father figure to his sisters while growing up. He enjoyed giving her pleasure in every way possible and Adam, bless his furry heart, adored him.
Tonight she was going over to Carlos' apartment. He was going to meet her in the South American section of Eastern Market and together they were going to buy the ingredients to make Tampiquena, a delicious Mexican steak recipe. She had always loved Eastern Market with its collection of fresh produce stands and butcher shops. It held a little bit of all the nationalities that made up Detroit and she had been delighted as a little girl to go from a Polish bakery, to a Middle Eastern spice shop, and end up at a traditional French cheese store.
She couldn't wait to share the experience of visiting the Market with Carlos. That was one thing she had been missing in her life, sharing things with someone she lo---
Her hands went still as she chased that thought away. No, she couldn't love him, or Morgan. Not yet. People don't fall in love right away, it was something that happened slowly, over time. Especially not two men at once. She had only known them for less than a month for pity's sake.
It wasn't proper.
Her mother's voice spoke up in her mind, scolding her for leading two men on and making a fool of herself. That hard voice berated her for letting them do all those things to her, things that good girls would never ever do. Even worse, she had loved those things and that just proved how much of a bad girl she was. Her father would be so disappointed in her. Being a good girl, a meek and quiet girl who did what she was told when she was told was the only thing she did better than Penny.
Mrs. Delfin's soft voice interrupted her dark thoughts. "Is something wrong, dear?"
Realizing that her hands were barely moving, Violet felt a blush burn her cheeks. "No. I'm so sorry. I was woolgathering about---some guy I'm dating." The last thing she wanted to do was tell Mrs. Delfin that she was in a relationship with two men who were both getting serious. All she needed to do was give the old woman a heart attack because of her hedonistic ways.
Mrs. Delfin also deserved better than the half-assed massage she was giving her. Determined to focus on the present, she pushed her mother's voice away and locked it out of her head. It was one thing to let that voice tear her to shreds when she was alone, but she wouldn't let it hurt other people. It sounded slightly psychotic when she thought about it like that, but it was true.
She worked her way up to Mrs. Delfin's shoulder, soothing away a knot that had formed there. Mrs. Delfin had six grandchildren and two great-grandchildren and she refused to let her arthritis keep her from holding a baby. Violet could only wish that she would be surrounded by so much love someday, to have a family of her own.
"You know," Mrs. Delfin said with her eyes still closed, "it may surprise you, but I've learned a thing or two about men during my time on Earth. Where do you think all of my children came from?"
Violet cleared her throat. "It's kinda complicated." She moved around to Mrs. Delfin's other side.
"When are affairs of the heart not?" She kept her eyes closed and sighed as Violet worked on a muscle. "I noticed you're not as slouched as you used to be."
"What?"
"Slouched, slumped, curled in on yourself." The delicate muscles of Mrs. Delfin's neck flexed and stretched beneath her fingertips. "You used to walk like you were trying to hide from someone, begging the world not to notice you. I knew your ex-fiancé wasn't the right man for you when you continued to walk like that while you were with him."
Violet's hands moved on autopilot, following the familiar path of muscle beginnings and nerve endings. Mrs. Delfin's words struck her to the core. When she picked out clothes to wear it was always muted tones that covered her and assured that she would blend into the crowd. Certainly never clothes that would display her curves or call attention to her.
In her teens she had bought one form-fitting shirt in a daring hot-pink color and endured her sister Penny's hissing remarks about being a slut. She might have found the strength to continue to wear the shirt except her father had been very disappointed when he saw her and asked her to change into something that didn't make her look so cheap. It didn't matter that skinny and svelte Penny had a closet full of tight clothes, she never wanted to see her father's disappointment directed at her again.
She didn't wear that much makeup because she didn't want to draw what her mother termed as "the wrong kind of attention". Instead the attention she did attract were men like her ex, men who tried to control every aspect of her life. Why she had dated such men in the first place was a whole 'nother can of psychological worms that she didn't want to open up right now.
The music switched over to a sweet and light strings piece as Mrs. Delfin said, "Your beloved should be someone who builds you up, makes you a stronger person. Together, you should feel like you can go anywhere and do anything. Most of all they should make you feel cherished and safe."
Clearing her throat, Violet moved down the bed to work on Mrs. Delfin's feet. "How do I walk now?"
Mrs. Delfin smiled. "You walk with your shoulders back and your head held high. Whoever this gentleman is, he's managed to convince you that you are worth loving."
Guilt pierced Violet's chest. Carlos and Morgan did make her feel cherished. It was in their eyes, in the way they touched her and always made sure she was comfortable and happy. With Carlos she had not only amazing sex, but an extremely smart man who could debate with her for hours over differing viewpoints and never have to resort to cutting her down or making her feel stupid to prove his point. He told her all the time that he loved her mind, loved that she was so intelligent and yet compassionate. Come to think of it, he was always telling her the different things that he loved about her.
When she was with Morgan the world seemed to go from being a scary place to a playground. He took her to art museums and answered all of her questions with endless patience and she always found herself laughing while she was with him. He radiated joy and brought much needed warmth to her life. In the bedroom he was a force of nature, as irresistible as the tide. Dominant and demanding, he pushed her boundaries and left her an exhausted, utterly happy mess.
She knew she should choose between them, pick one amazing man over the other and not string them both along. After all, they wouldn't accept her dating both of them forever. Even though they claimed to be cool with it, she had noticed their unhappiness when she told one she couldn't make plans with him because she had a date with the other. They never pressed her or pressured her, and that made her feel all the worse.
Never in a million years would she have been able to do what they were doing, so selflessly giving her the room and time to decide. Just the thought of either of them being with another woman made rage boil in her veins. To make matters worse, she honestly didn't know which man she liked better. If it wasn't impossible, she'd say she was falling in love with both of them. The thought of never seeing Carlos or Morgan again made her heart ache and her mouth dry. Even worse was the thought of how badly she would hurt them if she didn't make a decision soon.
"What..." Violet swallowed the shame that threatened to choke her and continued. "What if there are two men that make me feel that way?"
Mrs. Delfin's laugh was that of a much younger woman, still filled with light and life. "Do they know about each other?"
"Yes." She sighed and ran her thumb up the arch of Mrs. Delfin's foot. "They are both so nice about it. Neither one pressures me to choose, but I can feel their unhappiness about the situation."
"Clever men," Mrs. Delfin said in a murmur. "I'm willing to bet that neither is thrilled about you seeing the other, men are such competitive creatures, but they don't want to be the first one to raise a stink about it and take the chance of losing you."
Violet considered that thought. Could that really be why Carlos and Morgan hadn't said anything? Were they afraid she would use it as an excuse to leave them? "But I have to choose one over the other. It isn't fair to string them both along."
"My advice." Mrs. Delfin smiled. "Mind you, this is the advice of a woman who was married to the love of her life for forty-eight years but did her fair share of courting, is to take your time. You're still in the first blush of a relationship, where everything is new and fascinating." Her tone turned mischievous. "If you decide that you love both of them, buy a house big enough for all of you and consider yourself blessed."
"Mrs. Delfin!" Violet said with a shocked giggle.
"Dear, I've lived through war, the sexual revolution, and watched the world change around me into both a better and a worse place. In that time I've seen just about every kind of relationship you could imagine. Did you know that one of my sons is married to another man in Hawaii? That they have adopted two beautiful children together and are raising them in a home filled with love?"
Mrs. Delfin struggled to turn over on her stomach and Violet helped her with a gentle touch. "You amaze me."
"Love is God's most precious gift and I would never insult him by thinking that I know better than he does. When you reach my age, you realize how very short life is and how easily it can be wasted. Don't waste this chance, Violet. Grab after it with both hands and hold on."
The bones of Mrs. Delfin's back protruded through her thin skin and Violet warmed the oil in her hands before spreading it over her back. "I'll try."
Mrs. Delfin sighed in pleasure as Violet found a knot and began to work on it. "Don't try, do."
\*
Carlos struggled to swallow the rage that threatened to choke him as he glared across his heavy oak dining room table at Morgan. "Fuck you."
Morgan sneered at him. "No, fuck you!"
The smooth and cultured female voice of their agent, Ms. Hanley, cut through the air from the speaker phone. "No, gentlemen, fuck both of you."
Both men gritted their teeth and turned their glare on the phone. Carlos wisely kept his mouth shut, but Morgan was never one for tact. "Listen, Ms. Hanley, this is a---"
"This," the smooth voice interrupted him with enough chill to frost a beer mug, "is a clusterfuck. You two are supposed to have an entire exhibit at the fundraiser that I begged, borrowed and stole to get you ready in three months. Yet I have not one new piece from you. Not one!"
The shriek in her last word had both men wincing and Carlos tried a more tactful approach. "I told you we'd be ready."
"Really?" Her voice took on a sweet, purring tone. "Because when I talked to Morgan an hour ago he told me that you didn't have anything ready for me, and probably wouldn't for a while."
Carlos glared at Morgan, who tightened his lips and glared right back. Over the past week they'd barely spoken a single word to each other that didn't end in a yelling match. At the center of their fights were Violet and their increasing jealousy of each other. They had both fallen for her, hard, and resented any time the other spent with her.
Last night Carlos had gotten drunk on good whiskey while he imagined all the things Morgan was doing with her. He'd shared women with Morgan before, but they had always been casual dates more geared toward sex than anything else. It was one thing to watch a submissive give his best friend a blowjob while he fucked her, it was another to imagine Morgan falling asleep with Violet in his arms. To be honest, the thought of watching Morgan work Violet over with a flogger aroused him. It was the shared intimacy that he wasn't a part of afterward that made him mad.
He had learned that Morgan got to go to Violet's house last night, the first time either of them had been invited. Hurt and anger had eaten away at him until he barely recognized himself. To his irrational heart it was a clear signal that Violet liked Morgan better, even though she had invited him to her house for dinner this weekend. He couldn't help but wonder if he would be able to detect signs of Morgan there, if by being in her house first somehow Morgan had marked it as his territory. The thought of doing anything other than beating the shit out of Morgan was impossible. As a result of the tension between them their work had ground to a halt.
Morgan said, "We'll have something for you by the end of the month." All the while flipping Carlos off with both hands.
Ms. Hanley's voice sliced through the air like an ice pick. "Look, I don't care if you two have PMS, are having a lovers' quarrel, or want to kill each other. You will pull your shit together and act like responsible fucking adults that conduct themselves in a professional manner or I will take both of your fucking candy asses to court and sue you for breach of contract. Am I clear?"
"Abso-fucking-lutely," Carlos said and Morgan snickered.
"Glad we're all on the same page. Don't fuck this up."
She hung up and Morgan jabbed the phone with his finger. They sat in silence, staring at each other. As Carlos studied Morgan he felt his anger ease back a bit. "She is such a bitch."
"Bet she'd make a great Domme."
They both laughed and some of the stress leaked away. Carlos took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. "We can't go on like this."
Morgan gave him a wary nod. "I don't like not being able to talk to my best friend."
"And I don't like wanting to kill you."
"So what are we going to do about it? 'Cause I'll tell you what, I'm not giving her up."
Carlos fought back the instinctive surge of territorial anger. "I'm not giving her up either. In fact, I think I'm falling in love with her."
"We are so fucked."
"That about sums it up." Carlos drummed his fingers on the table. "She's going to find out we know each other, eventually."
"I thought about that. If-when she chooses one of us, it's not like we're gonna stop talking to each other...right?"
"No, but our window of plausible deniability is getting smaller and smaller. We may be able to make her believe we don't know each other, but a couple of months, heck, even a couple of weeks from now that excuse won't hold water."
"Yeah," Morgan said in a miserable voice. "She's so smart, and she can see real clearly---if that makes any sense."
"It does." Carlos grinned at Morgan. "She can see right through people's bullshit to their heart. I don't have to pretend to be someone I'm not around her---"
"Because she notices and makes you feel like a moron for trying to be someone that you're not."
Carlos considered Morgan. With his rough good looks and big, football-player body it was often easy to forget that he actually had a very tender heart and shared Violet's ability to see to the truth of people. Now that he thought about it, Morgan and Violet shared a lot of the same characteristics. No wonder he liked her so much. "I love you like a brother, but I can't be the bigger man here and back off."
"I love you too, but there is no way I'm giving your ass a get out of jail free card on this one either."
"So we're back to square one. Two men in love with the same woman." Carlos tilted his chair back on two legs and sighed. "I thought about making her break up with you, but I think it would really hurt her. You obviously make her happy. Kinda in the same way a big, dumb golden retriever would make a person happy, but happy nonetheless."
"Yeah, well you seem to make her happy too. Like the way a neurotic and self-centered cat makes a person happy."
"Touché---asshole."
Morgan rested his head into his palms and mumbled, "This would be a lot easier if we were Mormon."
Carlos shook his head and laughed, "The vast majority of Mormons don't practice polygamy anymore, it's more of a fringe element thing. Besides, I think it's the Mormon men that get lots of wives, not the wives that get lots of men."
"Maybe she'd be open to the idea of a harem?"
"She doesn't strike me as the harem type. Before us, her life was disturbingly vanilla and she dated the biggest dickheads."
"Like her ex, the douche bag. He pulled a major mind-fuck on her and made her feel worthless. I still can't believe that he called her fat. What kind of fuckwad would say that to someone as gorgeous as her?"
Carlos said in a bitter voice, "Don't forget her family, they certainly helped her believe that she deserved nothing better than her ex-fiancé. Her mother actually told her to lose twenty pounds and try to get him back. I know it's not fair to judge them without ever having met them, but they sure as hell didn't do much to raise her self-esteem. If I have to hear one more time about how her father wouldn't approve of her clothing choice---"
"Or how her older sister is so much prettier and smarter than she is---"
"I'm going to puke."
They sat in silence for a few moments before Carlos said, "Though, now that I think about it, I don't hear much about her sister anymore. Last week I actually managed to get her to watch herself in a mirror while we had sex without getting nervous or acting ashamed."
Morgan gave him a small glare, but nodded. "Yeah, I know what you mean. She argued with our waiter last week when he brought her the wrong meal. When I first started dating her she would have eaten it even if she hated it because she wouldn't want to cause a fuss."
Carlos stood and went into the kitchen, grabbing them both a beer out of the fridge. He returned to the dining room and slid one of the amber bottles over to Morgan. "Think we should tell her that we know each other?"
Morgan took a drink from his beer and sighed. "I feel like such a fucking coward, but no, I don't think we should. I think if she found out she'd be so embarrassed that she'd leave us both high and dry. I'm making progress with getting her to think outside the box in the bedroom." He ignored Carlos' growl and continued. "But I think she's still too afraid of offending someone to be anything but polite and conservative in public."
"I have a date with her tonight."
Morgan's jaw clenched and unclenched. "I know."
"What if..." Carlos took a long swallow of his beer as Morgan drew patterns with his finger in the condensation on the side of his bottle. "What if we both dated her?"
"Uh---aren't we already doing that?"
"I mean at the same time."
"You mean like a ménage?" Morgan gave him a cautious look. "Dude, I like you but I don't like you, like you."
Carlos snorted. "Have you talked about her fantasies with her?"
"Of course. What kind of Dom would I be if I didn't find out what makes her purr?"
Carlos took a deep breath and tried to calm his overactive emotions and nerves. There was one way, highly risky and very unconventional, that this could work out for all of them. He was going to take a huge gamble, but if it paid off they could all have exactly what they wanted. If it didn't he was going to regret it for the rest of his life, but never give up trying to win her back. "I have an idea."
Violet leaned against the edge of the granite countertop in Carlos' kitchen. She was barefoot and in a pair of comfortable jeans with a new navy-blue silk shirt that Carlos had bought for her. It wasn't very tight, but the loose collar slid down over one shoulder and exposed an almost indecent amount of skin. She had kept tugging at it until Carlos told her he would chain her hands if she didn't stop.
The raw steak sizzled as it hit the oiled cast-iron pan on his stove. A second joined it and she took a deep breath of the spicy scent of roasting herbs. "That smells fantastic."
He smiled at her and tugged her forward, capturing her lips in a hard and demanding kiss. Her body instantly heated against his as she kissed him back with abandon. There was no worrying about using too much tongue, or not enough with him. He controlled their kiss, directing her in what he wanted and how he wanted it, all the while melting her bones until she became wobbly kneed with desire.
With a last nip at her lower lip he pulled back with his eyes dark with passion. "Thank you. There's a bottle of Pinot noir in the wine closet, would you grab it and pour us both a glass, please?"
"Sure." She opened one of the many cabinet doors in the kitchen and marveled at how well she knew his home. She knew how he liked his coffee, and he knew about her morning craving for cinnamon rolls. On the counter next to the sink sat a big white bakery box filled with confections from Eastern Market. After placing two crystal wineglasses on the counter, she uncorked the wine and let it breathe for a moment while watching him cook.
His thick, dark hair was slightly mussed from their first kiss at the door when she had been unable to keep her hands off him. When she was away she found it hard to believe that she could be so instantly attracted to someone, but every time she saw Carlos something switched on in her body and she became almost wanton with need. It was the same with Morgan and she worried that she was turning into a nymphomaniac, or if it was like Bethany said, she'd been deprived of good dick for so long that her body was trying to stock up.
That thought made her snicker as she filled the wineglasses and he arched a brow as he flipped the steaks. "Care to share the source of that giggle?"
Heat rushed to her cheeks and she tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Oh, it's nothing."
"Hmmm." He took the glass and studied her over the rim. "Has anyone ever told you what a beautiful laugh you have?"
"No." She ran her toe over the grout lines in the slate floor as his compliment burned through her blood like good brandy. "Though I did laugh so hard I choked on a piece of blueberry pie at our family picnic one year. A blueberry shot out of my nose and hit my Aunt Penelope on the chin. My dad still teases me to this day, wishing he had video of it because we would have for sure won ten thousand dollars on that funny video show."
She winced and looked up to find Carlos biting his lip in an effort not to laugh. "It's not funny! I was traumatized. Blueberries hurt when they come out of your nose." When she glared at him he made little choking noises until she couldn't help but giggle. He took that as permission and laughed until he had to grasp the side of the counter to hold himself up.
After giving him a poke in the ribs, she rescued their steaks before they burned. He certainly wasn't up for doing much more than sitting on the floor and clutching his sides. He tugged her down into his lap and nuzzled his face into her hair. "I've never met anyone that can make me laugh like you do."
She grumped but relaxed into his arms and traced the line of his jaw with her fingertip. "What about your best friend? The one that lives in California. You've told me lots of stories about the crazy things you guys did when you were in college together."
The humor fled from his face and he captured her lips in a hard kiss that left her soft and needy. It was amazing how she could sense the change in him when he went from what she thought of as everyday Carlos, and became Master Carlos. Something in the way he held himself, in the way his essence shifted and became more intense.
She loved it.
"We need to hurry up and eat dinner. I-I have a special surprise for you tonight."
The spit in her mouth dried up and at the same time her heart raced. The last time he had given her a special surprise she had ended up suspended from the ceiling in some kind of sex swing in his dungeon, almost mindless after a series of orgasms that reduced her to some weird floaty state that had been amazing. Not knowing what was in store for her, but certain she would enjoy it immensely made her damp with need even as she worried about what the surprise was. She said the only thing that she could to try to express her pleasure. "Thank you, Master."
"Ah, Violet." He gave her a soft kiss on the tip of her nose. "If only you knew what that look in your eyes does to a Dom. Trust, need and a hint of fear. Up you go. I want you to be ready when it's time for your surprise."
\*
With her arms chained over her head and a blindfold covering her eyes, Violet panted as Carlos stroked his hand over her bottom. She was trembling on the edge of orgasm, and had been for what seemed like an eternity. There was enough slack in the chain for her to lower her arms a bit to relieve the pressure, but not enough that she could block his clever fingers.
"Violet, can you hear me?"
"Yes, Master." The words came out in a deeper voice than usual and she groaned as his hand brushed over the little decorative clamps on her nipples.
"I would like to indulge one of your fantasies tonight. A scene depicted in a photograph in one of our favorite books. One of the images that made your pussy clench when I was fingering you and we were looking at the pictures."
The memory of that night spent draped over his lap as he pulled a long and intense orgasm out of her with just his hands made her breath catch. He had asked her to show him the pictures that she liked, then touched her while they looked together. He had said that while her mind might lie, her pussy wouldn't. She tried to remember all the things they had talked about, all the secret desires she had revealed to him. "Master?"
"I would like to invite another Master to play with us." The chains over her head clanged as she startled. "I have known him for years and we will use protection. I trust him implicitly."
Her body tightened at the thought of two men touching her, using her and giving her pleasure like she had never imagined. She wet her lips and hesitated. What if Carlos got jealous? What if he thought she was a slut and wouldn't want anything to do with her after this? Her stomach clenched into a hard ball. If he really liked her, why would he willingly share her with another man?
"Violet. Tell me what you are thinking." He removed her blindfold and gave her a moment to adjust to the light. Clad only in a pair of leather pants, his body was a lean and muscled wet dream come to life. A dusting of crisp hair led down to the edge of his leathers where his noticeable erection caught her eye. "Honesty is very important and I promise you that I will always be honest in how I feel. Is this a fantasy you want to explore with me?"
"I..." She looked away and swallowed before returning her gaze to his. Telling him she was afraid he would call her a whore and run screaming from the room seemed to make sense in her mind, but when she thought of saying it out loud it sounded ridiculous. After all, he was the one who suggested it and Carlos wasn't the kind of guy to play mind games...at least she didn't think he was. "I don't want you to be mad at me."
He smiled and the hard look left his eyes. "Violet, the only time I would be disappointed with you is if you let fear rule your life. Nothing that happens in this room will ever change the way I feel about you." His dark eyes became so intense that her heart skipped a beat before he said, "You are the most precious thing in my world and I want to help you explore every pleasure that interests you."
She searched his gaze and it felt as if the floor was caving in beneath her feet. "Yes, please, Master."
His shoulders lowered and he let out a soft breath. "Thank you for trusting me."
She fidgeted and glanced down at her body. In the subdued lighting of the dungeon she could still see all the softness that he seemed to adore, but she wasn't sure how another man would react to her less-than-runway-perfect frame. "Master, could you please lower the lights before he comes in?"
He lifted her breasts so their heavy weight filled his palms. "No, I won't deprive him of your beauty. Of these fantastic breasts, of the way your chest flushes pink when you orgasm. When you're in your sub-space you reflect everything you feel in your expression and it's amazing." He placed one of his hands between her legs and stroked the wet heat there. "Besides, I want to watch his cock sliding in and out of that pretty mouth. I wish we had done some more ass play," she made a squeaking sound as his other hand squeezed her bottom, "but I'm afraid it would be more than you're ready for."
The doorbell sounded and her fear skyrocketed. He must have sensed it because he took her face between his hands and searched her expression. "Violet, if it becomes too much for you at any point, use your safe word. I won't think you're a coward, or judge you. We'll stop and then we'll talk about it when you're ready. I will be here and I won't let anything happen to you that won't end in a screaming orgasm."
A sense of security blanketed her and she nodded. He would take care of her, he would make sure nothing bad happened to her. The thought sent liquid heat through her veins and heart, at once arousing her and soothing. It was so nice to just be able to let go and trust him.
"To make this easier for you, I'm going to put your blindfold back on." She started to protest and he gave her a stern look that had her shutting her mouth so quickly she almost bit her tongue. "I'm doing this so you won't be worrying about who he is and what he thinks about you. You will only be able to judge his reactions by his body and his touch. And trust me, when he sees you chained up like this he is going to think he's died and gone to heaven."
After giving him one last searching look, she nodded and closed her eyes. The blindfold slid into place and she tried to peek out from beneath the bottom. She could see a faint hint of light and his legs. He laughed and a scarf of some type was tied over the blindfold. "No peeking."
She tightened her lips against the sassy comeback that would earn her a red bottom. The doorbell rang again and he stroked her cheek. "You're perfect."
The door opened and closed, leaving her alone in the dungeon with her body slowly cooling down from the heated state Carlos had worked her into. The ball of fear in her stomach grew larger and she began to tremble. It was hard enough for her to accept the idea that her desires weren't perverted and wrong with just Carlos or Morgan, but adding another man---a stranger---filled her with shame. She was never one for casual sex and could count the number of partners she'd had on one hand. Now here she was, naked and chained to the ceiling, waiting to be touched by a man she couldn't even see.
A flicker of heat flared between her legs as she realized how helpless she was. The men could do anything they wanted to her and she couldn't stop them. Oh, she could use her safe word and had no doubt that Carlos would honor it, but she didn't want to disappoint him. She wanted him to be proud of her, to praise her and tell her she was beautiful and amazing. Just the thought of his voice whispering those words in her ear made the blood rush to her pussy.
On the heels of that rush of desire came another memory of looking at the picture book with him as he traced circles around her clit with the tip of his finger. They had been looking at an image of a woman tied to a spanking bench, sucking one man into her mouth while the man behind gripped her hips. At the time she had deeply envied that woman and wondered what it would be like to be at the center of all that dominant attention. To be pressed between Morgan and Carlos like that.
Her nipples drew tight and her body flushed with heat. Oh God, to be pressed between Carlos and Morgan at the same time, surrounded by their power. Maybe if she imagined the mystery man was Morgan this would be easier. She felt guilty for thinking about Morgan while she was with Carlos, but the thought of being with a complete stranger really scared her. Besides, Carlos said that she was allowed to think of any fantasy she wanted to while they were together, as long as it still involved him.
Two male voices came from outside the room and she struggled to make out what they were saying. She couldn't understand any of the whispered words, only the tone of their conversation. Then Carlos laughed and opened the door. "There she is, my Blushing Violet. Isn't she beautiful?"
A low, rumbling voice said, "Yes."
She instinctively tried to cover herself but the chains holding her arms restricted her movements. Her heart raced as she struggled and twisted, vainly trying to see beyond the tightly secured blindfold. In an instant Carlos was at her side, his voice soft and soothing. "I'm here. Relax, nothing and no one is going to do anything you don't want. Do you understand?"
She nodded and flinched when his hand brushed the clamps on her nipples. They weren't as tight as the nipple clamps they normally played with, enabling her to wear them for longer periods of time. Still, the sensation of him brushing them stung and she arched her back.
"I want to hear you say it."
Her voice trembled as she said, "Yes, Master, I understand."
"Master...Vince and I are going to touch you now." He emphasized his words by stroking from the indentation of her armpit down her side in a sensation that tickled and felt good.
She tensed and tried to use all her remaining senses to gain as much information as she could about the other man. The scent of a cedar-based cologne reached her nose and she breathed in deep. It smelled familiar, and she could have sworn she smelled it on Morgan before. The memory of being cuddled against his broad chest while she slowly rode him drew a groan from her throat as fingers slightly rougher than Carlos' traced the outline of her lips. Her fear melted beneath the thought of it being Morgan touching her like this. Morgan standing there with Carlos. He would have loved the sight of her strung up from the ceiling. Her skin tingled in the wake of his touch and she parted her lips, sucking that finger into her mouth with a small groan.
Carlos made a sound of approval and dipped his hand between her legs, cupping her with his palm. "So hot and wet. Such a good girl."
A large body pressed against her back and his chest hair brushed against her skin. He lifted the heavy mass of her hair out of the way and nibbled down her neck, the gentle touch punctuated here and there by a nip of teeth that made her gasp in pleasure. She rocked her hips into Carlos' palm, tightening her pussy each time her clit pressed against him.
Suddenly the men were gone and she moaned in protest. Her whole body was hyperaware, her skin sensitive to the slightest movement of air. Two sets of hands removed the clamps on her nipples at once and she screamed as the blood rushed back to the aching tips. Immideatly two different mouths descended on her and gently sucked her throbbing tips.
It felt so damn good. Her head rolled back on her shoulders as she tried to assimilate the sensations, each man different in his approach but just as amazing.
Her imagination offered her the mental picture of Morgan's blond head next to Carlos' dark one as they licked and stroked her body. She held on to that image, sounds of rough pleasure coming from deep in her throat. Carlos, at least she thought it was Carlos, moved beside her and turned her face toward him. When his lips brushed against hers she knew it was him, the way he kissed her was as unique as his taste.
While he plundered her mouth, Master Vince kissed his way down her stomach, his fingers trailing down her skin with a hint of nails that made her thighs clench. The air felt cool on her still wet nipples as she hungrily returned Carlos' kiss, seeking the proof of his approval. As long as he continued to kiss her, to touch her, she knew he was enjoying this as much as she was.
She almost lost her balance when Carlos stepped back and the chain holding her to the ceiling chimed as her arms were lowered enough so she could hold them at her waist. Master Vince knocked her legs apart so she had to stand wide open before him, the wet secrets of her body exposed to his gaze.
A dull ache tightened the muscles of her shoulders and upper back as her body adjusted to the return of movement after being held aloft for so long. With only Master Vince's hands on her calves anchoring her to the earth, she felt floaty...like that time in college she had tried marijuana. She attempted to reach down to touch the other man, but he pulled back and left her grasping at air.
Being denied the pleasure of touching him made her shift forward to try to reach him. She wanted to feel what he was like, to know if the silk of his hair would meet her fingers or a smooth, shaved head. From behind, Carlos slapped her butt hard. "Keep those legs open."
Her knees turned to water and she tried to comply with his order, but her body seemed to be moving in slow motion. She felt liquid with pleasure. Hoping that he would be pleased with her effort, she tilted her hips toward Master Vince and exposed herself further to his gaze. His indrawn breath was its own reward. For as much power as they had over her, she still had power over them, the power to give them all the pleasure her body had to offer. She wanted to make them feel good, needed to know that they found her attractive, that they wanted her.
Unable to express herself, to put those deep thoughts into words, she simply said, "Please, Sir."
Carlos pressed against her back, his frame just as hard but not as bulky as Master Vince's. "What do you want?"
"To make you happy, Master."
Carlos placed a gentle kiss on her cheek and began to rub her shoulders. His thumbs felt like heaven as they pressed into the knotted flesh where her neck and back met and she arched into his touch. "You make me very happy. You've been so brave, so trusting. You are a wonderful sub and I am a very lucky Master."
A warm tongue slid up her inner thigh and Carlos moved away from her back. "I'm going to flog you now. You are forbidden to orgasm without my permission." Teeth bit into the skin of her thigh hard enough to sting and that pain sent an ache straight to her pussy and seemed to settle into her clit. "Master Vince is going to do everything he can to make you orgasm."
Fear of disappointing him coursed through her and she struggled to turn toward Carlos' voice while Master Vince held her legs as securely as shackles. "Oh no, Master, please---"
Out of nowhere the soft leather of a flogger smacked across her bottom hard enough to sting. "Silence."
She pressed her lips together and had to grit her teeth to keep from begging his forgiveness. The flogger brushed over her back, a series of soft kisses of leather that woke up the nerve endings in her body, making her hypersensitive. She tried to relax into the blows, not tense before they hit her skin. It was an almost impossible task made all the more difficult by Master Vince's mouth steadily working closer to her pussy.
Using his thumbs, Master Vince spread open the wet lips of her labia and made a deep rumble of approval. She relaxed slightly at that primal male noise, happy that he was pleased by her body. When his broad tongue licked the very tip of her clit she gasped. Morgan liked to do that to her and she sank back into her fantasy of it being Morgan between her legs. His big hands holding her securely, his delicious body framed between her thighs.
The flogger hit her breasts and she jerked at the sting. All the blood in her body seemed to rush to either her pussy or her breasts, making her lightheaded as she struggled to remain standing. The sensations were overwhelming and she panted as Master Vince pushed a thick finger inside her.
Master Vince made a low sound of pleasure. A second finger joined the first and he held still while she rocked her hips on his fingers. The pleasure from his touch shook her self-control and she tried to remain unmoving as the pressure built. Carlos worked his way around the side of her body now, the kiss of the flogger making her jerk and shudder against Master Vince's hand.
She made little moaning noises, wanting so badly to thrust her pussy into Master Vince's mouth, to grind herself against his face until she ograsmed against his lips. Morgan loved that, loved it when she came undone against him. He would draw the orgasm out, nips and sucks on her clit that extended it almost to pain.
She was so involved in what was happening to her body that she scarcely noticed when Carlos stopped flogging. A thin sheen of sweat covered her and every lick and suck between her legs had her crying out. The urge to orgasm had progressed to a need and she hunched over in an effort to keep her body from betraying her and disappointing her Master.
No, her Masters.
Carlos pressed her back against his chest and cupped her breasts. His long, capable fingers began to roll and twist her nipples, already sensitive from their earlier play. God, he knew just how to touch her, just how to make her lose control. His erection pressed against her back, slick with her sweat as she ground back against him.
His voice whispered into her ear, "You look so beautiful, so alive. I love to watch him eat you, love knowing that my good girl is obeying me. Knowing how hard it is for you not to lose control."
She whimpered and laid her head back on his shoulder. In the darkness of her imagination Morgan's hands caressed her legs, his teeth nipped at the hood of her clit. It was perfect, the men she was falling in love with sharing her and giving her all their attention, all their love. With them she was beautiful, always cherished and wanted. Emotions mixed with her passion and she had to swallow past tears.
Carlos must have felt the change in her because he murmured, "I've got you. Let it go. You're safe."
His words sliced through her heart. Safe, she was safe here with them. Between her legs, Master Vince started a rhythm of sucking and licking that was so similar to how Morgan ate her pussy that she found herself plunging headfirst into her fantasy. Carlos continued to pet and stroke her, giving her the affection she craved. His hips rocked into her back, the head of his cock slick with his pre-cum.
"Come for us," he whispered and pinched her nipples, hard.
A second later Master Vince latched on to her clit and held it between his teeth while he flicked his tongue over it. The ache that had wound her body up tight enough to break intensified until she thought she would lose her mind. She made little mindless begging noises and then peaked when Carlos slid his wet finger into her anus. "You have no idea how much I want to plunge my cock into that tight, pink ass of yours."
The overstimulation went from being too much to just enough and she screamed. The orgasm tore through her body, ripping her mind apart until she had no conscious thought. Just like Morgan, the man between her legs continued to suck and lick her, drawing out contractions to the point of pain.
She tried to jerk her body away from him, "Enough, Morgan, please."
Carlos froze behind her and said in a shocked voice, "What did you say?"
The mouth between her legs disappeared and she felt a chill work to the base of her soul. Oh no, what had she done? Panic suffused her and she tried to think of something, anything to say. Feeling horribly exposed and vulnerable, she jerked at the chains. "Let me down!"
The door on the other side of the room opened and she tugged at the blindfold, wincing as she pulled some of her hair out while trying to get it off. She squinted past the glare of the lights as she looked for Carlos, filled with shame and embarrassment. But most of all, filled with fear. Carlos knew who Morgan was, had picked up her phone when Morgan had called while they were on a date and asked who he was. She hadn't lied, at the time priding herself on her honesty. Now she bitterly wished she had.
There couldn't be any bigger betrayal than calling your lover by the wrong name during sex.
She kept her eyes on the ground and said again in a shrill voice, "Unchain me!"
Carlos' feet came into her line of sight and he tried to make her look at him. "Violet, we need to talk."
She felt as if she was going to throw up as saliva filled her mouth and her stomach lurched. Tearing at the bindings of the cuffs she managed to get one off and broke off the tip of one fingernail. The pain stung and the sight of her blood in the lights did nothing for her nausea.
Carlos quickly removed the second cuff and grabbed her wrists. "You're hurting yourself. Stop freaking out for a moment."
Still filled with the fading rush of endorphins from their play, her heart slammed her chest and she began to hyperventilate. His hands on her wrists made her panic, made her feel trapped. She had to get out of here, had to run away. A failure, a disappointment, she was a horrible person who didn't deserve his trust. There was only one way to get him to let her go. She screamed her safe word. "Crimson!"
Immediately his hands released her and she ran from the room. Sprinting to his bedroom, she slammed the door and grabbed her clothes from where they were neatly folded on his bed. The bed that she had shared with him, the bed where he looked into her eyes as he moved within her and she felt like the most amazing woman in the world.
A strangled cry worked its way out of her throat and she fumbled with the shirt he had bought for her. Her bra strap stuck out and she pulled up her jeans with shaking hands. Her mind was filled with a roaring white noise, punctuated by the voice of her mother, and worse yet, her own voice condemning her as a whore. She had hurt Carlos so bad. If she wasn't such a slut, this would have never happened.
Grabbing her purse and jacket from the dresser she glanced at herself in the mirror. Mascara ran down her cheeks and her lipstick was a forgotten smear across her face. She used the edge of her shirt to try to wipe it away and gave up, unable to face herself. How could she have thought of herself as looking pretty when she left the house? She was a fat, red-faced mess who could never hope to hold on to someone like Carlos. Especially when she was the one who had betrayed him. If he had called out another woman's name in bed, she would have been furious and devastated. She couldn't imagine it would be any different for him. He had been willing to do anything for her, to fulfill her every fantasy, and she couldn't even stay faithful to him in her mind.
The door opened and the kindness in his voice cut her like a whip. "I wish you would stay."
Her words came out in a garbled mess. "I can't."
She couldn't hear what he said next past the pounding of her heart in her ears. Brushing past him, she jerked his hand off her arm and ran out the front door.
Morgan sat on Violet's couch, giving a grunting Adam a good scratch behind his ears. On the other end of the couch, Violet stared at the TV and he knew she wasn't even aware of what was on the screen. Guilt twisted his stomach and he gently pushed Adam away, turning to face Violet. It killed him that the woman he loved and his best friend were hurting so badly and he was partially responsible for this mess. Problem was he couldn't think of a way to make it better that wouldn't involve telling Violet the truth and right now he was pretty sure that would mean the end of everything.
Canned laughter from the TV cut through the silence of her small living room and Violet didn't even crack a smile. She had tried to cancel their date tonight, claiming that she had a hard day at work, but he had persisted. Not only because he wanted---needed---to see her but because Carlos was going out of his mind. Not that Morgan could blame him. She wouldn't return any of Carlos' calls or emails and he knew that if he was in Carlos' shoes he'd be devastated.
When she had answered the door he had been shocked by the dark circles beneath her eyes and began to worry that she really was sick. Then she had fallen into his arms and cried until his shirt was soaked and she was a limp weight against him. All of his efforts to get her to talk about it had met a brick wall and she had barely eaten any of the Chinese takeout he had brought with him.
Adam made a little whining noise and nudged at Violet's hand until she mechanically stroked his soft muzzle. With her hair back in a ponytail and no makeup she looked young and vulnerable and his Dom heart demanded he fix this situation. She glanced at Morgan and then back to the TV again. "Sorry I'm not much fun tonight. I won't blame you if you want to leave me."
He frowned and tugged her closer until she rested on his lap. The soft press of her curves into his lap aroused him, but he willed his body to relax. "Why would I leave you, Violet?"
She pushed against his chest and tried to sit up. "Huh?"
"You said that you wouldn't blame me if I wanted to leave you."
"Oh."
She tried to look away but he held her face in his hands and made her gaze meet his. "Is this about the other guy you're dating, Carlos? Did he do something to hurt you?" His mind called himself all kinds of names like liar, manipulator and bastard, but he couldn't bring himself to tell her the truth.
"I was horrible to him. I---" Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. "I don't want to talk about it."
"That's not fair."
"What?"
He ran his thumb over her lips, glad to see a little bit of life return to her beautiful eyes. "I said that's not fair. Violet, I care deeply about you, and I assume Carlos does as well. Beyond that, I know you don't have a malicious bone in your body. Now please tell me what happened and maybe I can give you a guy's perspective."
She blushed, then paled, then blushed again. "I can't---won't go into the details, but I can assure you that what I did was just terrible."
He continued to stroke her, firm touches that helped her body to relax even as her mind raced. "Did he break up with you?"
She squirmed on his lap. "Not exactly."
"Did he yell at you and call you names? Tear out his hair and curse you?"
That got the ghost of a smile to hover across her lips. "No."
"Then maybe it's not as bad as you think it is." He swung her around until she straddled his lap. The warmth of the junction of her thighs seeped through his jeans and this time he let his body respond, let her know that he found pleasure in touching her. "Why don't you talk to him?"
She frowned down at him, the freckles on her nose crinkling. "Shouldn't you be urging me to break up with him?"
He shrugged and rested his hands on her full hips. "Maybe, but more than anything else I want you to be happy, and this guy seems to make you happy." The feeling of her warm, silky skin beneath his fingers as he slipped his hands beneath the edge of her shirt sent a rush of blood to his cock. "I've shared women before with my best friend, and while the relationships didn't work out for a variety of reasons, it was never because she was seeing both of us."
She gaped at him and said, "At the same time?"
"Yep. It eliminated the problem of her feeling neglected when my work demanded my attention and I trusted Ca-Carson."
Her fair eyebrows scrunched together. "That's weird."
"Some would say that having an orgasm from being spanked is weird."
She blushed and fiddled with the buttons of his shirt. "I'll think about it."
His thumbs brushed over her nipples behind the satin of her bra and he enjoyed the sensation of the tips growing hard beneath his strokes almost as much as he liked the sudden hunger in her gaze. "Talk to this guy, decide how you want things to go. Just know that I'll still be here for you and that I care for you very," he pinched her nipples and pulled her closer as she sighed and pressed her pussy against his cock, "very much."
\*
Violet hummed along to the melodic strains of Enya as she carefully worked her way around the withered mass of muscle along the six-year-old girl's calf. Sunlight streamed through the window of the long-term care room of the pediatric ward and made the bright-yellow-and-green quilt covering the bed glow. Every once in a while a beep from one device or another would sound from one of the machines, but neither of them noticed.
It was late afternoon and Violet spent every Thursday at the Detroit Children's Hospital working as a touch volunteer. She was part of a study that Jason from work had introduced her to. They were trying to document the effectiveness of touch on helping people heal, especially children. Jason's wife, Dilsay, was a respiratory therapist for the hospital and recommended them both. The theory was that the patient's body and immune system would respond to a loving touch, and actually help heal the patient.
For Violet it went deeper than that. She had always wanted to be a nurse but had never gotten around to going to college for it. First it was her maternal grandmother falling ill her freshman year of college. Her mother had come close to falling apart after her grandmother's death and with her father traveling all the time for work, and Penny busy with her life, Violet had been the only one who could be there with her. Violet had dropped out of Michigan State and moved closer to home where she attended a local college and had attained her Associate's Degree in physical therapy with a specialization in therapeutic massage. With the job market as bad as it was, she considered herself lucky to have been hired so quickly by the spa, and even though it wasn't where she had envisioned herself, she was glad to have any job.
Truth be told, she loved making people happy and she didn't know anyone who didn't walk away from a good massage feeling better. Alia moaned softly as Violet's fingers traced over a nasty bruise on her foot. "They couldn't get a vein in your arm again, could they?" Violet asked in a soft voice.
"No. They tried but they had to put the chemo IV in my foot again." Alia relaxed as Violet avoided the purple and yellow splotch on Alia's pretty mahogany skin.
Violet willed herself to relax and think positive, healing thoughts and prayers. Her ex-fiancé, a pediatric heart surgeon who she met at this hospital, had laughed when she told him about envisioning sending healing vibes to her patients while she massaged them. But she believed deep in her heart that it helped. Sometimes she could almost see the energy that flowed from her into her patient, and she often left those massage sessions feeling lightheaded and very tired. Oh, there was probably some scientific explanation for it, but that didn't stop her from praying with all her heart.
The door squeaked open and Nurse Eric carried in a tray and said in a mellow voice, "Time for lunch, sweet Alia." It was hard to tell how old he was behind his gray beard, but the kids adored him and Violet looked up to him. Kind, smart and compassionate, he personified the kind of nurse she wanted to be someday.
With a last stroke over the girl's sunken cheeks, Violet placed a kiss on her forehead. Alia's parents lived a four-hour drive away and they came every chance they had, but they still had to work and take care of her two little brothers. "You better clean your plate, miss."
Alia rolled her eyes. "You sound like my mom."
Violet winked at her. "Thank you. That's the best compliment I've received today."
It took her only a few minutes to pack up her things as Eric helped Alia sit up and placed pillows around her so she wouldn't have to strain to hold herself upright. The room still smelled like the vanilla lotion she used for Alia and Violet smiled as she tucked a drawing Alia had made for her into her bag. Old regret washed through her as she wished for the millionth time that she could work here all the time, but this was a volunteer-based study and it wasn't receiving a lot of funding. The bank accounts tended to open for the drug-based studies or hard scientific facts, but touch therapy was considered by many in the scientific community to be one small step above carnival faith healers.
Violet blew Alia a kiss and was about to head out the door when Eric said, "Hold on one sec."
He joined her in the hallway right outside the room. "I just wanted to let you know that after one of your sessions Alia eats more than she ever does and her pain tolerance goes way up. I know that you guys get a lot of flak from some of the docs here, but the nurses believe in you."
Unexpected tears stung Violet's eyes and she had to blink them away. "Thank you."
Eric gave her shoulder a squeeze and glanced back at Alia through the window. "Alia's parents wanted to know if you had a business card. They would like to hire you to come in and work on Alia some more."
"Oh, uh I have one...let me look..." She dug through her satchel and tried to swallow back her tears again. After fumbling out a card and handing it to him she rubbed her eyes. "Sorry 'bout the waterworks."
"Hey, you don't need to apologize to me." He smacked his forehead. "I almost forgot, there is a young man waiting for you in the coffee shop. Said his name is Carlos and that Bethany sent him."
The floor seemed to sink beneath Violet's feet and Eric reached out a hand to steady her. "Carlos?"
"Yeah." He frowned and studied her. "You need me to call security?"
"No!" She dug a tissue out of her bag and tried to wipe her eyes without smearing her makeup. "He's my boyfriend, we had a fight." It sounded really lame when she said it like that, but it was true. "Please extend my thanks to Alia's parents for thinking of me."
Eric edged toward the doorway, obviously eager to get back to his young patient. "No problem. Have some faith in yourself, kid. You're more amazing than you know."
Violet smiled faintly at him and made her way to the elevators. Trust Bethany to take matters into her own hands and give Violet a push, whether she liked it or not. With her lips pressed into a firm line, she punched the number for the spa into her phone and stood against the wall as a group of people waited for the elevator.
"Volun's Day Spa, Betha---"
"You have no manners at all," Violet said in a hissing whisper into her phone.
Bethany laughed. "You've known me for five years and you just figured that out?"
"You---"
"Amazingly awesome woman?"
Violet closed her eyes, willing herself not to smile. "Hardly."
"What's your problem? You have lover boy, the talented photographer, meeting you at the hospital for a fun afternoon, ready for a hot bout of make-up sex after whatever stupid argument you had that you won't tell me about. I wish I had a problem like that. This is the perfect opportunity to ask him to donate something for the hospital's fundraiser."
Violet turned her back on the crowd waiting for the elevator. "You know I feel weird about that."
"Honey, you feel weird about asking anyone for anything, ever. This isn't about you, it's about the hospital. Just ask him. You might be surprised at how willing people are to help you if you just ask them."
The crowd shuffled into the elevator and Violet joined them. "I'll talk to you later." She hung up before Bethany could say anything further. Her heartbeat increased with every floor that the elevator descended, bringing her closer to Carlos. What would she say? They were in a public place, so he probably wouldn't cause a scene...at least she hoped he wouldn't. Maybe she should try to call him and ask him to meet her outside. Then again, she wasn't sure she could take being alone with him.
The doors opened and she reluctantly exited on the main floor. Her sneakers squeaked across the polished marble floors of the cavernous foyer and she could smell the coffee shop even before she saw it. Dressed in her khaki pants and forest-green shirt, she wished she was wearing something that made her look pretty. Her steps slowed as the coffee shop came into sight and she spied Carlos sitting at a black wrought iron table and talking on the phone. His back was to her so just his dark hair and a slip of his profile showed, but she would have known him anywhere.
Her body responded to him as if there were a magnet connecting them. Suddenly the only thing in the world that mattered was being in his arms as quickly as possible. She was in such a rush to reach Carlos that she bumped into someone hard enough that their coffee sloshed to the floor.
"What the hell!" a familiar man's voice said in loud disgust and Violet's heart sank.
Of all the people she had to run into, it had to be Dr. Kenny.
"Hello, Kenny," she said, barely able to keep the sneer out of her voice. He looked different than she remembered. She used to find his perfectly combed brown hair attractive, and thought his smile was dazzling. Now she noticed that he had a receding hairline hidden behind that expensive cut and that his teeth were bleached an almost unnatural white. It was almost as white as his doctor's coat with his perfectly pressed pants and gleaming gold cufflinks.
For a moment she focused on those cufflinks, thinking how utterly absurd it was that he was wearing gold cufflinks with his name on them. No, not just his name. Each cufflink said Dr. Kenny. What an ass.
"Violet," he said and didn't bother to try to keep the scorn out of his tone. "I'm surprised you're still here."
She took a step back as he checked his clothes for any stray spots of coffee. There were little white circles around his eyes and it took her a moment to comprehend that his perfect natural tan wasn't so natural as she realized they were tan marks left behind from the little glasses that people wore in tanning beds. "I still volunteer for the healing touch study."
He snorted and gave her an up-and-down look that made her feel as if she were covered in dog shit. "Trying to pick up another doctor since I dumped you?"
Her pulse pounded so hard in her ears with rage and embarrassment that she was surprised she could even hear Carlos' voice when he said, "I sure hope not." His hand reached around her waist and he pulled her close for a kiss.
Before their lips met he whispered, "I've missed you so much." At the first brush of his mouth against hers, Violet's body floated on air. He parted her lips with his tongue and she eagerly opened for him, delighting in the taste of him, the smell of him as he kissed her with a skill and intensity that left her shaken.
Kenny's voice splashed over her like a bucket of ice cold, stinking water. "Nice, Violet. Why don't you just fuck him in front of the entire hospital?"
Carlos fastened his hands around her waist as she tried to turn to Kenny and said in a mild voice, "Jealous? You should be. Violet is a beautiful, smart and utterly sensual woman. Everything a man could ever want and more."
Kenny's cheeks flushed red and he crossed his arms over his chest. "Are you kidding me? I've had more fun masturbating than fucking her. "
Carlos turned her in his arms so she was facing Kenny. His lips were pressed into a thin line and the white circles around his eyes stood out even more as his cheeks flushed with anger. Against her back, Carlos shifted his hips against hers and she could feel the hard press of his erection. The memory of having all that cock inside her made her thighs clench. Carlos stroked his thumb down her cheek and a spark of electricity seemed to flow over her skin. "Funny," he murmured against her cheek, "she never fails to make me come so hard I feel like I'm going to pass out---over and over again."
Kenny made an inarticulate sound of rage and took a step toward them before he lifted his chin into the air and said in a scathing whisper, "Who the fuck do you think you are? Some big-nosed Guido with a taste for fat white girls?"
Before Carlos could say anything, the anger that had been bubbling inside her finally overflowed the carefully constructed boundaries of her self-control. "Kenny, why don't you go upstairs and tape your dick to a popsicle stick. That's about the closest you'll come to an erection without Viagra."
Kenny's jaw dropped as blood flushed his face until he was tomato red. His hands trembled as he straightened his cuffs. "You cunt."
An older doctor with salt-and-pepper hair in green scrubs approached them with a smile, "Carlos, there you are, is this..." He paused and took in the mood between them. "Did I interrupt something?"
Kenny's lips almost disappeared as he swallowed hard enough that his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat like a yo-yo. Without another word he turned on his heel and stalked across the foyer, barely avoiding an elderly woman in a wheelchair who yelled at him in a shrill voice.
It took all of her willpower not to chase after him and kick his ass for calling her that. As it was, her heart slammed in her chest as adrenaline coursed through her veins. Carlos whispered into her ear, "I'd like you to meet someone."
Her curiosity helped push the anger back, but she could still feel it like a sour, heavy ball in her stomach. Carlos moved away from her back to her side and held her hand in his. Her thoughts were scrambled as she gave his hand a small squeeze. Giving her a squeeze back, he smiled at the older doctor and said, "Dad, I'd like you to meet my girlfriend, Violet. Violet, this is my dad, Dr. Paolo."
She could feel the blush burning her cheeks all the way to her ears as she shook hands with Dr. Paolo. He placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles before releasing her hand with a dazzling smile. "Ahh, you are the beautiful woman who has stolen my son's heart."
"Dad," Carlos muttered and pulled her closer to his side.
"It's nice to meet you," Violet said and hoped that he hadn't caught any of the conversation they'd been having with Kenny. As usual, all of her good retorts to Kenny's crude accusations were coming to her now, after the confrontation. She was glad that Carlos has defended her honor, because the best idea that she could come up with at the time would have been kicking Kenny in the nuts as hard as she could. Satisfying, but she probably would have ended up in jail.
"I don't have much time, I'm due in surgery in half an hour, but I'm glad you called me. I wanted to extend an invitation to dinner from your mother to you and Violet. She wants to meet the young woman who makes you starry-eyed."
Violet giggled at the thought of Carlos being starry-eyed for anyone and he gave her a mock glare. "Don't encourage my father."
"Do you work here, Violet?" Dr. Paolo asked as he looked down at her large black bag.
She fiddled with the strap across her shoulder. "No, I work at a spa."
Carlos claimed her hand and held it firmly with his own, stroking his thumb over her palm. "But she volunteers here once a week working with the healing touch research program up in the PICU."
Dr. Paolo beamed at her. "That's fantastic! You know, I've been thinking about seeing if they would consider extending the program into my section of the hospital."
Carlos continued to circle her palm with his thumb, as if he couldn't get enough of touching her. "Dad's head of the Geriatric Unit over at Harper University Hospital."
"Wow," she said in a soft voice. Knowing that Carlos came from a successful family was one thing, but finding out his father ran one of the best geriatric centers in Michigan was a whole other ballgame. It made her feel at once intimidated and inadequate.
Dr. Paolo glanced at his gold wristwatch. "I've got to go. Violet, it was nice meeting you and I really hope you would do me the honor of telling me about your experience with healing touch. I am quite serious about integrating that therapy into our program and I could use your firsthand experience to give me some idea of how to start."
"Of course," she said as Carlos and his father exchanged a back-thumping hug.
"She's a beauty," Dr. Paolo said, giving her a wink. "I can see why you're so smitten."
"Thanks, Dad," Carlos said.
They both returned his wave as he hustled across the foyer and headed out the door toward his hospital across the street.
Her body tensed as the silence between them stretched out. She looked down at their joined hands and watched his thumb stroke against her skin. His hand looked so large holding hers and she remembered what it felt like to have those hands dominating her body. The burn of her anger changed to another type of burn, one that she was desperate to soothe. Desire coursed through her veins and gave her the courage to look at him as she said, "I'm sorry I ran away."
His nostrils flared as he took in a deep breath. "And I'm sorry I reacted the way I did. It just...startled me to hear his name. Were you thinking about him?"
Guilt lodged in her heart like a lead weight and threatened to strangle her into silence. But there was no resentment in his face, only questioning so she cleared her throat and said in a rush, "It was hard for me to have a stranger touch me. I didn't like not knowing who he was and it frightened me. I was about to chicken out and yell my safe word when I thought about...you know."
"Violet, you can say his name. I bear no animosity toward him for dating you. Well, maybe a little, but that's only because when he's with you I'm not."
She glanced up and could only read compassion in his expression. "I thought about Morgan being with us and it went from being scary to being exciting. I guess I'm just not a random-guy kinda girl."
Carlos led her back to his table and pulled out the chair for her next to his. The afternoon sunlight bathed them in a patch of golden light that brought out the amber flecks in his brown eyes. As they sat, he handed her a full cup of warm coffee. "It's more my fault than yours. I should have talked it over with you first rather than assuming you would be okay with it. I misjudged your desires and I feel like an asshole for putting you into a situation that made you scared."
She sipped her coffee and reached across the table for his hand. As their fingers laced together, something inside her eased. "In the future I'd like to discuss big things like that before we try them."
"So you're not breaking up with me?" he teased in a light tone, but his dark eyes were serious.
"No." She took a deep breath. "So you're not breaking up with me?"
"Absolutely not. I'd be a fool to lose someone like you over something as insignificant as that."
"Good, because it would be really weird to have dinner with your family if we weren't dating."
He smiled at her and lifted her hand to his mouth. The tip of his tongue licked the delicate flesh between her fingers and her body flooded with heat as if she were a gasoline-soaked rag that someone had just thrown a match on. "I need you," he said in a low voice.
What she wanted to do was scream, "Take me now!" but she settled for, "Okay" as he dragged her out of the hospital in an almost run.
\*
They made it as far as inside the front door of her house before Carlos picked her up and carried her to her bedroom. Their lips met in a kiss that made her toes tingle as he bit and sucked at her lower lip with a small growl. A dog chew toy squeaked as Carlos stepped on it and Violet broke their kiss with a giggle.
Carlos set her to her feet and shooed Adam out of the bedroom. He gave a token whine of protest before leaving.
"Remind me to bring Adam a steak next time I'm over," Carlos said as he tugged her shirt off. Her answer turned into a moan as he cupped her breasts and sucked at her erect nipples through the black lace of her bra. Switching from one to the other, he gently bit and tormented each tip until they ached almost as much as her swollen pussy.
She tried to reach for him, as eager to touch his body as he was hers, but he grabbed her wrists and lifted her hands so they were behind her head. "Don't move."
Heat blasted through her veins. "Yes, Master."
He bit a hole in each side of her bra, tearing at the lace with his teeth until her nipples stood out, stiff and pink with her arousal from the ruined black lace. All of the blood in her body seemed to rush to her clit as he made a hungry sound and traced small circles around each tip with his tongue, never quite touching her where she wanted. He continued to torment her and she had to brace herself as he finally took one throbbing peak into his mouth and sucked hard.
She gripped her hair with her fingers, the sharp sting mingling with the pain from his bites until her whole body buzzed with arousal. Without releasing her breast, he unbuttoned her pants and slid them down her hips enough so that she could step out of them. The entire time he held her nipple captive between his teeth, and each movement made him bite a little harder until she stood still, trembling.
When he released her nipple, the surge of blood returning to the tip of her breast made her wince and moan. He backed her up until the edge of the bed hit her thighs. "Open your legs for me," he said in a low growl.
The cool air against her wet thighs made her realize that she was so aroused she had soaked through her panties. He discovered this for himself when his hand cupped her mound and he chuckled. "That is a very hot, very wet pussy."
"Thank you, Master."
He ran his nails over the wet satin of her panties, tracing circles around her engorged clit as she moaned. He would come so close, the edge of his finger barely brushing her, then trace away again. Over and over he circled her clit until her thighs were trembling with the effort to hold still. Her pussy felt so swollen and sensitive as his teasing touch continued to make her desire spiral higher and higher.
He grabbed the back of her head and kissed her, owning her mouth and taking everything she had to offer. She returned his kiss with desperation, hoping to please him, trying to do anything she could to make him touch her. His finger hovered directly over her clit, close enough so he barely grazed the surface. She pushed her hips forward and had one brief moment of bliss that tensed her body to the edge of orgasm before he pulled back with a frown.
"I told you not to move."
"I'm sorry, Master, please---I need..." Her gaze skittered down to his erection pressing against his pants. "I need your cock inside me." Just saying the word out loud made her blush with embarrassment, but she knew Carlos liked her to use dirty words with him.
"You think I should reward your bad behavior by fucking that wet, hot pussy? That I should shove my cock inside you so your cunt can squeeze it while you come?"
Her bones went liquid and her breath came out in a shudder. "Please, Master."
His lips tightened and his dark eyes turned cold. "I don't reward subs for trying to take their own pleasure. Take off your panties, then turn around and bend over. Place your hands on the bed."
She almost fell as she tried to comply with his orders as quickly as possible. Untangling her panties from her feet she did as he asked, pleased by the guttural sound of masculine desire he made when she bent over and spread her legs. Clothing rustled from behind her and she tried to look at him from over her shoulder.
She had a brief glimpse of dark skin stretched over firm muscle before he said, "Eyes on the wall in front of you."
The handle of the side table where she kept her toys and condoms next to her bed jingled and her pussy clenched in anticipation. When he grabbed her bottom with both hands a moment later and spread her butt cheeks she moaned as his thumbs dug into her flesh. His grasp felt so solid, so secure as he pushed her closer to the edge. "Rest your cheek against the bed and hold your ass open for me like a good girl."
She did as he commanded, feeling utterly exposed and vulnerable before him. A moment later something cold and wet squirted over her exposed anus and she flinched at the chill. Playing with her ass had always seemed so very naughty to her, so she enjoyed the feeling of breaking a taboo as he rubbed the lube in with his finger. "I'm going to fuck your ass, Violet."
She pressed back into his finger, silently inviting him to go farther. So far she'd just had Carlos' and Morgan's fingers along with a few toys in her bottom, but the thought of having his cock in there made her weak with want. As one finger slid in, the ring of muscles in her anus stung and burned. She made a little noise deep in her throat and his other hand began to trace circles around her clit again.
Heaviness suffused her limbs and she closed her eyes, floating in darkness as he continued to stroke and stretch her bottom while he gently played with her clit. Soft, butterfly-light strokes that weren't enough to get her off, only to increase her pleasure until she was bucking back into his hand.
A second finger joined the first and the burn intensified again. As she groaned he pinched her clit and the burn became an intense pleasure. "More, please," she whispered.
He scissored his finger back and forth in her bottom, and shudders of pleasure racked her. "I wish you could see how erotic your tight, pink ass looks gripping my fingers."
She rocked her hips into his hand, a slow, steady pace that increased until she was burying him to the knuckle with each flex of her body. He started to work in a third finger and she bit her lower lip at the pain. For a long time he didn't move, just let her adjust to the feeling of him inside her.
His other hand moved away from her clit and he slid two fingers into her pussy. She immediately hovered on the brink of orgasm as he pressed into her G-spot, stroking her with both hands as he played with her body like the Master Dom he was. Thought was beyond her as she gave herself over to pure sensation, her muscles coiling tighter and tighter.
He pressed down with both hands inside her, rubbing his fingers together against the thin membrane that separated her pussy and ass. "Feel that? Now imagine that's two cocks inside you, rubbing together as we fuck you. Imagine Morgan's cock filling your pussy while I fill your ass. How fucking amazing that would be."
All she could do was moan as he began to finger her in earnest. "I'd love to see you stretched out with our cocks, out of your mind while we fucked you until you couldn't walk."
He pulled his fingers out and she let out a long, pained moan. Her whole body was on fire and it felt as if her pussy was so swollen that it was bruised. Her anus throbbed after the intrusion of his fingers and another squirt of lube was rubbed into it. Foil ripped and she held her breath as she waited for his touch.
A moment later the substantial head of his cock began to breach her ass and she stifled a scream. He was so big, so much thicker than his fingers, and it hurt. He paused and gently rocked his hips back and forth so the head of his cock popped in and out of her ass. "You are so tight, it feels fantastic."
She moaned when the familiar sound of a vibrator buzzing filled the air. He pressed the little silver bullet into her hand. "For being such a good girl, you can come as much as you want while I fuck your tender little asshole."
The second the vibrator touched her clit she came with a loud scream. He swore softly as he pushed his cock into her, fighting the contractions of her body as she continued to come and shudder, thoughts filled with the wickedness of having his cock in her ass, of the painful burn that translated to pleasure from her overstimulated body.
"Please, Master, fuck me," she panted and pressed her ass into him, the burn of his cock stretching her insides while her clit twitched and jumped with the aftershocks of her orgasm.
He set a slow, steady pace, until he finally was able to fully sink his cock into her body. When his hips met her ass he groaned and leaned forward, cupping her breasts and pinching her nipples while he withdrew just the smallest bit before slamming himself back home.
She tightened her ass and was rewarded with a hiss as Carlos grabbed her breasts. The vibrator hummed against her clit, driving her to seek her own release. The long, slow slide of his cock in and out of her ass made her tighten and moan beneath him. He released her breasts and pushed himself upright, grabbing her hips with both hands. Anticipation made her tense and he traced one finger down her spine from the base of her neck to where his erection pressed into her.
Then he began to fuck her in earnest.
The bed rocked beneath her cheek as he pounded himself into her, the hard muscles of his body smacking against her as he gripped her hips. She moaned with need as his ruthless thrusting drove her closer to the edge. The need became overwhelming and all of her attention narrowed down to his body moving within hers, the scent of their combined musk, and steady thrum of the vibe as she pressed it directly onto her clit.
He must have felt her orgasm approaching because he picked up speed until their bodies came together with a loud smack of flesh. "Come for me, my Violet," he said in a guttural tone.
She froze, trembled on the brink until his hand came down on her ass with a loud smack. That jolt of hot pain sent her over the edge and she dropped the vibe as her body forgot everything but the amazing rush of her release. It felt so good to come with his cock stuffed in her ass and the orgasm was hard and intense.
"I'm coming," he said with a low moan and ground his hips into her body, riding the waves of her orgasm. She could feel his cock twitch and throb in her ass but she was too weak to do anything but rub her cheek against the comforter covering her bed as he emptied himself.
In a marked contrast to the hard and deliciously painful fuck he had given her mere moments before, his withdrawal from her body was gentle. He stroked her back and made a soothing sound as she flinched when he finally pulled all the way out. As soon as his body was no longer tethering hers, she wiggled a few inches up to her pillow and collapsed, spread-eagle. Through a slit in her curtains the last orange vestiges of dusk burned away to darkness.
Today had not gone as she had planned, at all, and she couldn't be happier. The ever-present ache in her heart had vanished and in its wake burned a warm glow that seemed to illuminate her from the inside. Not only was she back together with Carlos, but he had introduced her to his father. Somehow that made their relationship seem more official and she couldn't help the smile that curved her lips, still sensitive from Carlos' demanding kisses.
Little tremors shook her body and as the sweat began to cool on her skin she felt chilled, but was far too lazy to make the effort of covering herself. From the bathroom came the sound of running water and she wondered if Carlos would carry her into the shower and hold her up to wash her. The thought of moving anything beyond her eyelids seemed ludicrous.
The door to the small bathroom off her bedroom opened and she halfheartedly lifted her head, then let it flop back down. Carlos laughed and said in a teasing voice, "Are you okay?"
She blew a strand of hair off her face. "Ask me again when my brain decides to return to my body."
The bed dipped as he sat on the edge and she could feel the heat of his body. With a delicate touch, he cleaned her privates, paying special attention to her bottom. She winced as he wiped her clean and he slowed his movements. "Violet, are you sure you're okay?"
"Mmhmmm." Her anus still hurt, but it was nothing compared to the memory of him filling her as she came hard enough to blast her mind into outerspace.
A soft towel dried her off, then he gently inspected her bottom. "No tearing, but you may be a little sore."
Her body roused at the butterfly-soft stroke of his fingers over her anus, nerves sparking to life. He pressed gently against the entrance to her ass and she squirmed beneath his touch, at once aroused and hurting. He chuckled and the bed dipped again as he stood and returned to the bathroom.
She had no idea how much time had passed, but when he returned to bed he gathered her unresisting body into his arms and slid her beneath the covers. His warm body felt so good to snuggle back against beneath her clean sheets and the scent of their lovemaking hung in the air. The crisp hair on his chest tickled her back as she pressed into him, secretly pleased by the way his cock thickened and grew hard against her ass.
He gripped her hips, his fingers sinking into her softness. "Stay still, you little minx. Your body isn't up for another round quite yet."
She pouted and turned in his arms to face him, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. "Thank you, Master, that was amazing."
Heat flickered in the depths of his dark eyes and his cock twitched against her belly. "I meant what I said, Violet."
His hair was soft beneath her fingertips as she brushed it back from his forehead. "What are you talking about?"
"I would love to share you with your other boyfriend, Morgan, in bed."
She tried to pull back, but his arms locked around her in a steel vise. "Uh, I don't think that would be a good idea."
Little tingles of pleasure followed his fingertips as he stroked the tense muscles of her back. "What part about the idea bothers you the most? Honestly."
"What if you two fight?"
"Well, I can't speak for him, but if you like him as much as you like me I'd hazard a guess that he's a pretty decent guy. And I don't generally go around kicking pretty decent guy's asses."
She frowned at him. "I'm serious. What if you get jealous, or he gets jealous and I lose you both?" Her voice grew thick. "I know it is horribly selfish and unfair, but I want both of you and I don't want to share you with anyone else."
He continued to stroke her body with long, slow movements. "I wish I could promise that I won't be jealous, but I can't. I do know that long-term I couldn't handle knowing there was another man in your life if he was a complete stranger to me."
She nodded and swallowed past her runaway emotions that had her close to tears again. "I can understand that." She darted a glance up at his face, curling her fingers through his chest hair. "Morgan wants to meet you as well."
"He does?"
"Yeah." She smoothed her hand over his shoulder. "I-I was pretty miserable after our fight."
"Don't you have to talk to someone in order to fight with them?"
She pressed her forehead against his chest and mumbled, "You know what I mean."
"I do, but I'm still a little ticked that you wouldn't talk to me." He took a deep breath and her body rose and fell with the motion. "Without honesty between us there is no hope for any kind of relationship working. I don't care if it's just me and you, or all three of us. You can't just run away when things get tough."
Guilt left a sour taste in her mouth. What he had described was exactly what her mother did, and she hated it. When things didn't go the way she wanted, her mother would ignore someone until she got her way. Violet had been on the receiving end of that frosty silence more than once and she despised it. The thought that she did the same thing to Carlos made her feel at once ill and angry at herself. "You're right. I was a coward to run away like that. I'm sorry."
"Hey now, you're not a coward. You're one of the strongest women I know." He lifted her chin so she was forced to meet his gaze. "Strength isn't all about being loud and showy. There is a quiet strength that is as endless and deep as the ocean, that's what you have. Beyond that, you have more love to give than any woman I've ever met. More than enough for me and Morgan."
His compliment embarrassed her and made her feel good at the same time. God, she was a mess. "So, where do we go from here?"
He pulled her onto his chest so that his hard cock rested against the moist slit of her pussy. "Well, it's my turn to play with the vibrator now. I want you to ride me with your hands tied behind your back while I play with that pretty clit of yours until you can't orgasm anymore."
Heat flashed through her body and she squirmed against his cock until the ridge of his head scraped over her clit as it beat with the pulse of her body. "I meant about you meeting Morgan."
His teeth nipped against the side of her neck, leaving behind a pleasant sting that he soothed with his tongue. "I'll be out of town next week down in Miami for a photo shoot. Why don't we set something up after that?" He laughed and worked his fingers through her tangled hair. "I have no idea what the protocol is for meeting my girlfriend's boyfriend. Should I bring him flowers?"
She giggled and ground her hips against his erection, making him all slippery with her cream. "Uh, I don't think that's his style. Let me talk to Morgan and see what he thinks."
"You do that," he said as she reached over into the drawer next to her bed and pulled out a condom with anticipation sending a rush of heat through her body.
Sunlight gleamed off the wet pavement as Violet drove toward her parents' house in Auburn Hills. It was two days before Valentine's Day and Violet couldn't wait. She had picked out gifts for both of her men and laughed with Bethany while they hunted for the perfect greeting card for each of them. Last week Bethany had met Carlos before he left for Miami and pronounced him utterly delicious. Yesterday Violet and Morgan had met Bethany for lunch and afterward Bethany had calmly told her that she was going to kidnap Violet and impersonate her so she could have the experience of dating two of the most amazing men on the planet.
Behind Bethany's joking exterior Violet detected a hint of true longing, so she urged Bethany to give the Literary Love matchmaking site a whirl. Bethany had joked that she didn't think reading Cosmo qualified as literature, but she would think about it. Violet really hoped she did, because everyone deserved a chance at true love. God only knows how she had been lucky enough to end up with not just one, but two men.
She sang along with the radio, unable to contain her happiness. Morgan had called her twenty minutes ago to confirm the address for her parents' house where he would be meeting her there to have dinner with her family. Normally the thought of leaving any man alone with her mother and sister would have terrified her, but she knew Morgan could handle them.
It felt kind of weird to introduce Morgan to her family before Carlos, but he was out of town and her mother had demanded to meet the young man who was taking up so much of her time. While she'd met a few of Morgan's sisters, she hadn't been formally introduced to his family yet like she had with Carlos' parents. Before she had started dating Carlos and Morgan, she hadn't realized how much of her free time she spent running errands and doing things for her family. She was always the niece who would take her elderly aunts to Bingo, the daughter who would sit at her parents' house and wait for the cable guy while her mom went grocery shopping, the younger sister who would feed Penny's cats while she and her husband went away on vacation.
To be honest, Penny's husband always tried to pay Violet for cat sitting and was grateful for her help. Violet often wondered how such a nice guy ended up with a bitch like her sister. Brad, Penny's husband, often said that he knew the moment he saw Penny cheering for the football team at a U of M game that he had known she was the one. It had surprised everyone when Penny brought home the team manager instead of the quarterback, but Brad had graduated with honors and was now a successful banker providing Penny with every luxury she could ever want. And she wanted a lot.
The song ended and an annoying announcer blared about a monster truck show coming to the Joe Louis Arena. After flipping through the channels, she found a jazz station playing a mellow tune. Her peach-painted fingernails tapped out the beat with the snare drum as she coasted off the freeway. Morgan had introduced her to jazz and she had fallen in love with it during a long, steamy afternoon spent tied up in an elaborate series of silk ropes while Morgan teased and tormented her with a riding crop. Just the memory of his intense passion had her pussy clenching.
To her delight, she had found some of the same CDs in Carlos' music collection and had spent an hour dancing with him in front of his full-length windows. She had wondered how they looked together, swaying in the soft golden light of candles while a wicked and unexpected snowstorm turned Detroit into a winter wonderland outside. It had seemed so magical, held in the warmth of his arms as the world turned to ice around them. A small, irrational part of her hoped that since the men shared similar tastes in jazz music, they might have more in common.
The only thing that marred her happiness was how fragile it actually was. If things didn't go well next week between Morgan and Carlos, she was afraid she was going to lose both of them. She had tried to pick between them, even drawn up a list of pros and cons with both men and talked it over with Bethany. It always ended in a stalemate as her heart literally ached when she thought of not seeing either of them ever again. In a weird way, together they were her perfect man.
While she waited for a stop light to turn green, she checked her makeup again. For the first time in years she wore a sparkly gray eye shadow that brought out the silver in her eyes. The kiss-proof, rose-pink lipstick made her lips seem fuller than usual, and she knew Morgan would love it. Her father might not approve of her form-fitting silver silk shirt, but it complemented the pearl-and-jade earrings that Carlos had bought her after their first date.
Two nights ago she'd had dinner with Carlos' family and had spent most of the night talking with his father while Carlos and his mother played chess in the family's well-appointed home. Dr. Paolo's passion for his work was evident in how carefully he paid attention to what she said, and he was very interested in her elderly clients that she worked with at the spa. Carlos had to practically drag her out the door while Dr. Paolo yelled questions about what type of aromatherapy was helpful for insomniacs.
She pulled into the familiar driveway of her parents' stately white colonial and parked behind her father's sedan. There was no sign of Penny's Mercedes and Violet let out a relieved sigh. For a while she and Penny had gotten along much better than they ever had, but that all changed last year. She didn't know what had happened, but Penny had become steadily bitchier as time went on to the point where even their mother avoided talking to her. If Penny said one cross word to Morgan, Violet was going to have to kick her ass.
The thought of rolling around on the floor of the foyer, punching and pulling each other's hair like they used to when they were growing up made her laugh as she got out of her car and pulled her jacket tight. Her father had ignored them, but her mother had gotten sick of it one day and brought the hose into the house and sprayed them with it. She could still remember Penny's shriek of outrage that had dissolved into a fit of giggles as they both ran outside to avoid their mother's wrath.
Before she even made it up the first step, the red-painted front door with its gleaming brass knocker swung open and the scents of home filled her nose on a warm draft of air. It didn't matter how long she had been away, all she had to do was smell that particular blend of aromas that had sunk into the wood of the house and it was as if she had never left. Her mother smiled at her from the doorway, giving her a quick once-over and raising her meticulously shaped brows in surprise.
"Why, Violet, have you lost weight?"
She bit her tongue and shook her head, brushing past her mother and stamping the slush off her shoes on the mat just inside the front door. "Nope."
Her mother took her jacket and cocked her head to the side. Her hair was the same shade of red as Violet's, but threaded with white. "I haven't seen you in something this flattering in years." She busied herself in hanging up the coat in the closet and added, "Your father may not approve, but I think you look lovely."
Violet gaped at her, unable to process what her mother had said. Did she actually compliment her? She braced herself for the next part of her mother's statement, the stinging insult that would surely follow. When her mother did nothing more than tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and smile, Violet blurted, "Have you been drinking?"
Her mother flushed and glanced toward the back of the house where her father no doubt sat in his den, busy with whatever corporate disaster required his expertise at the moment. She led Violet into the blue-and-white parlor off the foyer, decorated with her grandmother's blue Wedgewood plates.
After sitting in an uncomfortable formal blue silk chair, her mother gestured to the matching couch. "Please have a seat, Violet. There is something I need to tell you."
With her heart pounding in her ears, Violet slumped back into the couch and immediately sat up straight, her mother's countless lectures about posture ringing in her ears. Anxiety brought the taste of bitter metal into her mouth as she waited for what was coming next. From the odd way her mother was acting, it had to be something horrible.
Her mother dithered with the pleat of her carefully creased slacks and the silence between them thickened to the point where Violet had to break it. "Did one of the aunts die?"
Her mother's dark eyes flashed up to hers, wide with shock. "What?"
"The only time you brought me into this room when I was a kid was to give me some really bad news." She clasped her hands together; the knowledge that Morgan would be here soon gave her strength. No matter what her mother said, he would be there for her.
Her mother's lower lip trembled and she swallowed hard. "Violet, I'm sorry." Her ears rang as she went through a list of worst-case scenarios in her head, so distracted by her thoughts of doom and gloom that she almost didn't hear her mother add, "That I've been such a bitch to you."
Now Violet did slump back into the uncomfortable sofa, the air leaving her body like a pricked balloon. "What?" she asked in a faint voice.
Her mother's pink lipsticked lips, in a shade not too far from what she wore, Violet absently noted, thinned then relaxed again. "I've been seeing a psychiatrist at the urging of your father." She glanced up at Violet and plucked at her pants again. "You see, I've been suffering from depression for a very, very long time."
"What?" she asked again, sounding like a rather stupid broken record.
"My psychiatrist thinks that I've had depression for most of my life, and that I've learned to cope with it enough to get by." She looked up and the pain that Violet saw in her mother's eyes broke her heart. "I've always been sad, but I thought everyone felt that way. I tried to suck it up and go on with my life and pretend everything was all right, like my mother did, but sometimes it got to be too much and I'm afraid I took it out on you girls."
"Grandma was depressed too?"
"She would never admit it, but I think she was." Her mother stood and sat next to her on the couch. "I've been on an antidepressant for five months now, and I've never, ever felt so good for so long. Oh, I've been happy in the past, but those good times were small islands in an ocean of sadness."
So much of her childhood was being rewritten as her mother spoke, things that had always puzzled and confused her falling into place. She could remember Penny making her breakfast at a very young age, and how her mother had screamed at them for spilling cereal on the counter. Afraid, she tried to tell her mother to stop yelling at Penny, that it was her fault because she was hungry, but her mother wouldn't listen. More and more memories filled her mind, days when her mother wouldn't even leave her bed, making Penny responsible for the household while their father was away on one of his many business trips.
"I managed to convince the world that everything was okay, and you and your sister paid the price." Her mother took her hand. "I took out my irrational anger, my frustration on you. I tried not to scream at you like my mother screamed at me, but I'm afraid I was just as cruel. I put an impossible amount of pressure on both you and Penny to be perfect, to be the kind of person I was pretending to be. I'm so sorry."
Violet stared at her, noticing for the first time how the lines around her mother's eyes had deepened and multiplied. It wasn't that her mother had aged overnight, but that she was seeing her clearly for the first time in a long time. "You said Dad made you go?"
"Yes." Her laugh had a brittle edge as she patted her carefully styled hair. "Now that he's semi-retired and mostly working from home, and you girls are out of the house, it became impossible to hide my 'blue' times from him. That's what I used to call them, the blue days. Weeks when the world lost its color and became a cold, cruel place."
Her heart ached for her mother and she wanted to give her a hug, but Violet also needed to hear the rest of what her mother had to say. "That's horrible."
"It was." She sighed and actually slumped on the couch next to Violet. "Your Aunt Penny and Violet tried to help, I would often spend summers as a child at their cabin in the Upper Peninsula, outside of the critical eye of my own mother. Back in those days a lady's reputation was everything, and your grandmother did everything she could to make sure mine was intact. I was a virtual prisoner in my own home. Forbidden to speak to boys, forbidden to go to dances, forbidden to wear anything but a proper skirt." She plucked at her pants again. "My mother would be appalled at the sight of me wearing slacks."
The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed the hour and her mother glanced out the bay window to the slush-caked street out front. "Your young man will be here soon. I just wanted to let you know that I will try very hard to make up for the past. I can't promise miracles, as my psychiatrist likes to remind me, but I can promise to try my hardest."
"Oh, Mom..." Violet's throat closed up.
Her mother stood from the couch. "No crying, you'll make your mascara run. You know we look like scared rabbits without our mascara." She actually winked and Violet felt unreality wash over her again. Like she was having a really vivid dream and any second Hulk Hogan would leap out of the closet in an elf costume and ask her if she wanted some brie.
"Right, no tears." She spied Morgan's SUV pulling into the driveway. "My date's here."
Her mother leaned over so she could see out the window and made a low hum of approval as Morgan got out. His faded blue jeans clung to his powerful legs and the dark-brown leather jacket brought out the caramel undertones in his blond curls. Before shutting the door he pulled out two bouquets of flowers, one of pale-russet roses and one of tulips, her favorite flower.
"Well, he is certainly a better looker than that young man you used to date, Kenny. What a pompous little man he was."
She tore her eyes away from Morgan's approaching figure. "I thought you liked him."
"No, honey, I thought you liked him so I tried to like him for you." The doorbell rang and her mother said in a low whisper, "Does Morgan make you happy?"
"Very."
"Then that's good enough for me." She moved to answer the door and added, "Now your father will probably hate him out of principal, but I'm afraid there is no medication for making a father happy that his baby girl is growing up."
\*
An hour later Morgan and her father were deep in conversation about the Lions' chances of making the Super Bowl next year while she and her mother made a salad for dinner. The open kitchen looked down into the den, and Violet couldn't make out what they were saying over the blare of ESPN, but so far her father hadn't kicked him out.
It helped that Morgan was also a diehard Lions fan and knew almost as much about the team as her father. When her father heard that, he had hustled Morgan off to his den to show off his prized collection of sports memorabilia. Violet had trailed along, amused by the gleam in Morgan's eye as he took in her father's collection with something close to awe. She had excused herself on the excuse of helping her mother in the kitchen, but in reality sports bored her to tears and the only thing that would have entertained her was ogling Morgan's ass, and that was something you just didn't do in front of your dad.
"Morgan," her mother called out over the din of the TV, "do you like black olives on your salad?"
"Whatever you make is fine with me." He looked at Violet and a spark of heat seemed to leap from his gaze to hers. Desire suffused her body and her chopping of the tomatoes slowed to a standstill.
Her mother chuckled and said in a low voice, "He better not let your father see him looking at you like that. Lions fan or not, he may end up at the bottom of Lake Michigan."
Violet tore her gaze from Morgan's and blushed hot enough that she probably matched the tomato. "That would be unfortunate." She peeled the shell off a hardboiled egg and came to a decision about something she had been thinking about since her talk with her mother in the parlor. "Mom, Morgan isn't my only boyfriend."
Her mother stared at her, then blinked rapidly and took a deep breath. "Does he know that?"
She tried not to squirm as she crumbled the egg into a small bowl. "Yeah. Uh---they want to meet each other next week. And I'd like to introduce you and Dad to Carlos."
Leaning against the counter, her mother examined her and finally nodded. "I know things aren't like they were back when I was growing up, but I still think it should be one man and one woman."
Shame heated Violet's cheeks as she cleared the eggshell into the wastebasket. "I used to think the same thing, until I met them."
Her mother turned her gaze on the living room. "I used to think I knew what love was until I met your father and found out I had no idea." She briskly brushed her hands together and stood up straight. "Well, I can't promise that your father won't lose his mind, but I'd like to meet this Carlos."
A lump formed in her throat and she swallowed past it. The thought of upsetting her father made her feel slightly ill, but she knew if her mother was on her side she stood a fighting chance. "Thanks, Mom."
"What will you do if things get serious? You can only date for so long before your heart will want to take the natural next step and settle down."
"I-I don't know. I guess we'll just have to take it one day at a time like everyone else."
Her mother shook her head and laughed. "You definitely take after your father's side of the family. Calm, logical, and you can see to the heart of a matter without getting hysterical."
Violet gave her mom an innocent look. "Who in our family gets hysterical?"
Her mother gave her a mock swat on the bottom with a dishtowel before heading across the kitchen to the sink. The doorbell rang and her mother gestured toward the front of the house with a hand full of carrots that she was about to wash. "That must be Penny and Brad. Can you please let them in?"
"Sure." Violet grabbed a towel and dried her hands as she hurried down the hall to the front door. The doorbell rang again as soon as she opened it and Penny gave her a nasty look. "It's freezing out here. What took you so long and why was the door locked?" Penny's eyes were puffy and Violet noticed that she wasn't wearing any mascara. Her light, strawberry-blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail and her nails looked as if she'd been biting them. That was as weird as the sun turning green. Penny always looked as if she'd stepped straight out of the pages of a fashion magazine and she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen Penny with anything but an elegant manicure.
"You okay?" Violet asked as Brad and Penny walked into the house.
Brad also looked as if he'd been crying, and Violet wondered what the hell happened. After her mother's revelations she found herself looking at Penny in a different light. She was still a bitch, but Violet felt sorry for her. Penny had taken the brunt of her mother's anger, trying to do everything she could to make her happy. It wasn't good enough for their mother that Penny made the cheer squad, no, she had to be captain. She couldn't just sell enough Girl Scout cookies to afford to go to camp, she had to sell the most of anyone in her troop or she was a failure.
Penny tossed her jacket into the closet and gave Violet a narrow-eyed look. "Are you wearing makeup?"
She flushed and took Brad's coat. "Yeah."
"And Daddy didn't make you wash it off yet?"
"Penny," Brad said in a low voice. She went quiet and stared at the hallway leading to the kitchen. Brad sighed softly and gave Violet a tired smile. "You look nice. Is your boyfriend here yet?"
Her heart lifted at the mention of Morgan. She had no idea how she was going to introduce her family to Carlos, but that was a worry for another day. Right now she just had to get through the meal without pulling Penny's hair or kicking her in the shins. "Yeah, he's in the living room talking with my dad about the Lions' defensive lineup."
Brad's red-rimmed blue eyes lit up. "Really?"
Penny looked at her husband out of the corner of her eye and made a visible effort to compose herself. "Let's go meet this mystery man of yours."
Violet followed them down the hallway, eager to break the weird tension that surrounded Brad and Penny. As they walked, Penny slid her hand into Brad's and he held it so tight his knuckles turned white. Whatever was going on between them obviously wasn't about their relationship.
They reached the kitchen and the blaring noise of the living room TV echoed off the vaulted ceiling. Penny and Brad froze in front of her and Brad said, "Son of a bitch!" in a loud voice and dropped Penny's hand to sprint into the living room.
Penny whirled around and glared at Violet. "What kind of game are you playing?"
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Penny grabbed her wrist and hauled her down the hall to the parlor where Violet's mother had changed her view of the world an hour ago. She felt a weird sense of déjà vu as Penny took the chair her mother had sat in, adopting the same stick-up-the-ass pose. Her voice was frosty as she said, "Why is Morgan Kane in our parents' living room pretending to be your boyfriend?"
Violet stared at her and said through clenched teeth, "He is my boyfriend. How do you know him?"
Penny gave a bitter laugh and rubbed her forehead. "He was on the football team the same time I was a cheerleader. I was going to ask him out on a date before I met Brad, but then I found out he's gay."
Now it was Violet's turn to laugh. "He's not gay!"
An angry red flush crept up from Penny's neck all the way to her hairline. "Yes, he is. I don't understand why you're lying to me. I mean yeah, I know why you're lying to Mom and Dad, they've been leaning on you pretty hard to find a guy, but don't lie to me, please." Her voice broke on the last word and Penny actually looked hurt.
Violet shook her head. This wasn't adding up. Penny trying to be a hurtful bitch was one thing, but this was an outrageous claim, even for her. "Penny, why do you think he's gay?"
"Because I saw him with his boyfriend, Carlos. They were holding hands outside of the locker room when they thought no one was looking."
The room began a slow, sickening spin. She felt as if she were at the top of a rollercoaster, about to drop into a pit where the track disappeared into a broken chasm of jagged rocks. "Carlos?"
"Yeah. Carlos Romano. Hot guy that was in a photography class with Brad. Dark hair, real good-looking. He and Morgan were," she held up her hands, making quotation marks, "best friends. I never told anyone what I saw 'cause that could have screwed up his bond with the other football players and Morgan was a decent guy and a friend of Brad's."
Violet tasted the salt of her tears before she was even aware they were falling down her cheeks. "He knows Carlos Romano?"
Penny's posture softened and she dug a tissue out of her pocket. "I know things have been rough between us, but really, you don't have to lie to me. I won't tell Mom and Dad as long as you don't string this out for too long. Brad will play along too, he always liked Morgan."
She said in a voice filled with the pain of her heart breaking, "He lied to me...they lied to me."
"That bastard," Penny said in a venomous voice. "I'll castrate him if he hurt you."
Violet barely heard her, instead stumbling from the couch and fumbling with the door to the closet in an effort to jerk it open. Male voices came closer as Brad and Morgan walked down the hall, laughing together. They froze when they saw her jamming her jacket on and dropping her purse.
"Violet?" Morgan asked in a soft voice.
Penny stalked over to the men and said in a low hissing whisper, "What the fuck did you do to my sister, you asshole?"
"Penny!" Brad said in a shocked voice as Violet wrenched open the front door and stumbled down the steps into the now dark night.
She made it to her car before Morgan caught up to her. "Violet?"
Turning her back to him, she tried to jam her key into the lock. "Fuck off, you lying piece of shit."
He spun her around to face him, stepping back as she swung at him and missed. "What the hell is wrong with you, Violet?"
Rage spilled out of her, turning the world red with her anger. "You and Carlos know each other, in fact, you two are lovers!"
He turned pale beneath his tan and his hands fell limp to his sides. "I---that is we---I'm not gay."
"You two have been playing me this whole time! Oh, I don't mind sharing you with a stranger," she said in a nasty voice. "Don't worry, we won't make you choose."
He held his hands out in a pleading gesture, but wisely didn't move toward her. "It's not---"
"It's not what? It's not like you two haven't been manipulating me, laughing at me behind my back as you both fucked me? Did you two get together and compare notes on me? Did Carlos show you the pictures he took of me while he fucked me so you both could laugh at what a naïve, trusting idiot I am?"
"No, I would never do that!"
"Oh, but you would lie to me from the moment I met you." She staggered back against her car as pieces of their triangle relationship began to fall into place. "You were there, that night when Carlos brought another man."
He nodded and stared over her shoulder. "That was me. Carlos and I wanted to fulfill your every fantasy, and I missed you."
She threw her head back and screamed her rage into the sky. The door to her parents' house opened and Brad looked outside quickly before pulling Penny out of the doorway and shutting it with a slam. "How could you do this to me? How could you hurt me like this? You know how much I loved you!"
He jerked as if she slapped him and his face went ashen. "You love me?"
Her empty stomach churned and she regained enough of her mind to just use the button on her key to unlock the doors. "Not anymore."
He made a strangled sound and she practically dove into her car. As she slammed the door, he came close to losing the tips of his fingers as he tried to catch it. She slammed the lock into place and turned her car on and jammed it into reverse. The tires screeched before they caught the wet pavement and she spun out into the street.
In the reflection of her headlights she saw him crouch to the ground and hold his head in his hands. Wiping away her tears with a shaking hand, she sped down the street and took a few turns before pulling into the empty driveway of a house with no lights on and shutting her car off.
In the sudden silence her breathing sounded loud and jagged as she dialed Carlos' number on her cell phone. He answered after one ring, the pain in his voice evident as he said, "Violet, I can---"
"Don't call me, don't talk to me, don't show up at my work, don't show up at my house. You are fucking dead to me, you lying, manipulative, motherfucking rat bastard dickhead douche bag asshole!"
She hung up on him and blocked his number. A second later Morgan tried to call her and she blocked his number as well. Staring through the windshield of her car she called Bethany. It took her ten minutes of hysterical crying to calm down enough to let Bethany know that she was physically okay.
"Come right over," Bethany said in a stern voice. "The guest bedroom is yours tonight. I'm going out to get emergency ice cream and chocolate."
"Thanks," Violet croaked out. She hung up and started her car again, her body shaking with rage and sorrow as she wished with all her heart that she had never met Carlos and Morgan.
Violet trudged into work, moving in a haze of pain and heartbreak. Two weeks had passed since that awful day at her parents' house and instead of feeling better, each day was worse than the one before. Even her dog had gotten tired of her crying herself to sleep and had started bunking down for the night in the living room instead of her bed.
Bethany looked up from the front desk and sighed. "Well, at least today you remembered to brush your hair."
With a grunt Violet put her bag down and leaned her hip against the counter. "Is my first appointment here yet?"
Bethany nodded and lowered her voice. "Vi, you're fifteen minutes late. I'm covering for you as much as I can, but people are starting to notice and they don't believe me when I say you're in the bathroom. Mr. Volun is getting pissed at both of us."
She would have thought it was impossible to feel any worse than she did, but the knowledge that she was putting Bethany's job in jeopardy added a fresh layer of guilt to her aching heart. "I'm so sorry, Bethany. I promise I'll---"
Bethany held her hand up. "Just go take care of your client. We'll talk later."
Blinking back tears, Violet gathered up her bag and hustled to her room at the back of the spa. She passed Jason where Wendy had him cornered by the drinking fountain. His jaw muscles bulged as he tried to make it past the pushy blonde. The situation stroked the almost constant anger inside of Violet to a boil and she whacked Wendy as she passed with her bag, forcing her to move away from Jason. The wannabe home wrecker gasped with outrage and even Jason looked surprised. She might have hit Wendy a little harder with her bag than she intended, but damn that bitch for trying to manipulate Jason into bed.
Wendy's protests cut off as Violet closed the door to her room with a solid click and turned to set her bag on the long table that held candles and the stereo. It took more energy than she had to plaster a smile on her face as she turned and said, "Nice to meet you, my name is Violet..." The greeting died on her lips as she saw Dr. Paolo, Carlos' dad, sitting on her massage table with his legs dangling over the edge.
All the breath left her body in a rush and she said in a strangled voice, "What are you doing here?"
Dr. Paolo looked her up and down before he sighed and shook his head. "I know you and my idiot son had a falling-out." He ignored her growl and continued. "But the reason I'm here is not about him."
She gathered up her bag with shaking hands and swallowed back her nausea. In his face she could see the echoes of Carlos' bone structure and it hurt like a scab being ripped off a raw wound. "I'm sorry, I'll get someone else to massage you. I can't be here with you."
He moved surprisingly quickly for a man in his sixties as he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, holding her in place as firmly as if he had shackled her. "Please, forget for a moment that we have any association besides a professional one. I promise you, on my honor, that I will not mention he who shall not be named."
An unexpected laugh jerked from her lips at his obvious reference and she rather liked thinking of Car---he who shall not be named like that. Picturing him as an evil wizard bent on her destruction appealed to her newly discovered melodramatic side. "You have five minutes."
He nodded and at once stepped away. "I would like you to come work for me."
She stared at him and tried to process his words with her sleep-deprived brain. "Excuse me?"
His gaze, so like Car---he who shall not be named---held nothing but seriousness. "In the geriatric ward. I'd like you to come work for me."
"But I'm not a nurse. I have no idea what he who shall not be named told you, but I have no formal medical training outside of massage and a few semesters of physical therapy."
He nodded and clasped his hands in front of him. "That is true, but I want you to use your skills in massage and physical therapy." He paced her small room, a ball of energy in the form of an older Italian man. "I tried to get the healing touch program extended to my department, but it will take a good year or more to get it set up. Most of my patients don't have that kind of time. They are old, they are dying, and some of them are terribly lonely. They need someone to touch them, to give them the simple joy of human contact aside from holding their arm to take their blood pressure."
She leaned back against the wall, overwhelmed by his presence. "I wouldn't know where to start."
He stopped pacing and faced her. "I do. All I need is for you to work with me and my staff. We'll start out slow, with one or two patients and go from there. If things go well we should be able to hire some assistants to work beneath you in a month or so." He took a step closer, his hands flying through the air as he talked. "Think about it. I would hire you as a trained massage therapist. You would start out at $39,000 a year and get full hospital benefits, insurance, a dental plan and a 401k. Tell me they are doing the same for you here."
The picture he painted sounded amazing and terrifying at the same time. "I don't know if I could do it. What if I messed up? What if I hurt someone? I've worked with some elderly patients in the spa, but someone who is dying... I don't know if I could handle it."
"Those are all fair concerns and I would be happy to address them with you." He fished around in his back pocket and pulled out his worn black leather wallet. As he opened it, a picture of Carlos with his mother flashed before her eyes and her stomach tightened into a sour knot. He pulled out a cream business card and pressed it into her limp hand. "Violet, I'm not asking you to work for me because of...him. I'm asking you because everyone that I've talked with at the Children's Hospital does nothing but sing your praises. The staff and the children adore you and you could still visit and work with them if you choose."
Tears flooded her eyes and she stared at the ceiling while blinking them back. "This is a really weird situation to be in."
He sighed and quickly patted her shoulder before stepping back. "I know, and I wish I knew what happened between you and he who shall not be named, but he won't tell me anything other than he was a colossal asshole who should be taken out back and shot. If it makes you feel any better, he's miserable."
Actually, that did make her feel better in a very perverse way. "I'll think about it."
He beamed at her and her heart thumped as he once again reminded her of Carlos. "Fantastic. You have my card, call me at anytime of the day or night. Well, maybe not night, I don't need Mrs. Romano thinking I've decided to shack up with a young lady on the side. She may look sweet, but that woman has a mean right hook."
Violet slid the card into her pocket as Dr. Paolo moved past her to the door. He gave her one last look. "Please, think about it. I trust my gut and it is telling me loud and clear that we need you."
She stared at the door as it closed behind him and turned his words over in her mind. Trusting her gut was something that she used to believe in, until her gut led her heart and soul into being butchered by those two men.
They had tried to contact her, but after changing her phone numbers, refusing to answer the door, and finally calling the police when they both yelled from her front porch that they weren't leaving until she talked to them they finally took the hint. Bethany coming out with a butcher knife and threatening to cut their balls off might have helped. Thank God Bethany was there, because if she hadn't been Violet may have broken down and let them in.
She missed them terribly and hated herself for being so weak.
Possibilities spun through her thoughts as she traced her hand over the pocket of her pants where she had slipped the card. Her gaze wandered over the room that felt more like a cage with every second that passed. It was small, familiar, and non-threatening, but still felt like a cage. She knew her way around the spa and could spend the rest of her life here, fading slowly into the background until she became as much of a fixture of the place as a potted plant.
With that dreary picture in mind, she grabbed her bag and went out to talk with Bethany and tell her about the surprising job offer and to get her advice. Her heart actually sped up a bit as she realized she was really considering it, really thinking about trying something foreign and new. It was as if the terrible pain of her breakup had burned away a layer of her softness and left steel in its place.
She was almost to the receptionist's desk when a loud man's voice said, "Stop right there!"
Startled, she whirled around just as Mr. Volun strode across the black-and-white marble floor. His jowls wobbled and his pudgy neck was florid above the expensive polo shirt that stretched over the girth of his stomach. At his side, Wendy sniffed and rubbed her cheek.
Mr. Volun shook his finger in her face, the obnoxious diamond on his pinky ring flashing in the light. "Ms. Bishop, did you strike Wendy?"
"What?" She gaped at him then glared at Wendy. "I did not!"
Wendy sniffed louder and stepped behind Mr. Volun as if she were afraid. "Please don't make her mad," she said in a wounded little-girl voice. "I don't want her to come after me again when you're not around."
Heels clicked across the floor and Bethany came up behind Mr. Volun and Wendy with a cup of coffee in her hand and froze. "Mr. Volun, here is your coffee, sir."
He put a beefy arm around Wendy's shoulders, patting her back gently. "Give it to Wendy. She needs it after this crazy woman attacked her."
"I did not!" Violet curled her hands into fists and struggled to remain calm. Unfortunately, what little patience she had flew out the window when Wendy gave her a nasty smirk that Mr. Volun didn't see. "That bitch was trying to get into Jason's pants and I might have bumped into her, accidently, to help him escape her Botox claws, but I did not hit her."
Wendy wailed and Mr. Volun pulled her into his arms, whispering sickly sweet nonsense words to her while she cried and rubbed her breasts against his chest. Behind their backs, Bethany gave her a sad look and Violet had a startling moment of clarity. No wonder Jason had never said anything to Mr. Volun about Wendy, she was his mistress. There was no mistaking the way he touched her in such a familiar fashion while she practically humped him in her "grief".
"You apologize right now!" Mr. Volun thundered. Wendy peeked up from his arms and gave Violet a spiteful smile.
A rushing, white noise filled Violet's ears as she stared at Wendy, all the hatred and pain from the past two weeks gathering into a red-hot ball in her chest. As Wendy mouthed the words "stupid bitch" and Mr. Volun ranted and raved, that ball exploded.
Instead of the tidal wave of rage that she expected, she felt strangely peaceful and wondered if this was how convicts felt when they walked death row to their execution. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her chin and said in a very loud and clear voice, "Fuck you, I quit."
Bethany stared at her and made frantic pleading gestures. Even Mr. Volun stopped ranting and gawked at her in equal shock. "What did you say to me you little---"
Violet whipped up her hand, extended her middle finger and gave him the bird with all the grace of a ballerina. "Fuck you," she turned the bird on Wendy, "fuck you," she returned it back to Mr. Volun again, "and double fuck you for taking the word of a whore who gives new meaning to the term happy ending for her clients. I hope you wear two condoms because that pussy has seen more action than the bumper cars at Disney World."
Wendy's screech of outrage was the only warning Violet had before the blonde launched herself at her. Obviously, Wendy hadn't grown up fighting with her siblings like Violet had. She swung at Violet and grazed her chin, then Violet swung and hit Wendy full on in the face. Wendy's head snapped back hard enough for the weave of her extensions to show as her nose crunched beneath Violet's fist.
Wendy collapsed to the ground, howling and holding her nose as blood leaked between her fingers. Mr. Volun stared at her in horror and turned pale.
"Help me!" Wendy screamed between her fingers and Mr. Volun made a gagging sound, then stumbled over to the wall and threw up in great heaves.
They had quite an audience now, and a groan of disgust rose from the crowd at the sound of Mr. Volun's heaving. Bethany and the other employees stared at her with such an awed expression that for a moment Violet felt like a rock star. That moment quickly passed as the smell of Mr. Volun's vomit reached her and she gagged.
With a final look around the spa where she had spent the last four years of her life, putting up with more shit than anyone should ever have to for a few dollars more than minimum wage, she hitched her bag on her shoulder and strode out the door, ready to kick the ass of anyone who got in her way.
Violet leaned across the light pine-wood desk of her tiny office at Harper University Hospital and shook Jason's hand. "Welcome to 'A Touch of Love'. We're so glad you decided to join us."
Jason beamed at her, practically vibrating with happiness. He reminded her of Adam when she treated him to his own small pizza once a month. In fact, if Jason had a tail it would be wagging at light speed.
"Violet, I don't know how to thank you enough. I couldn't stand working in that place for another minute. And now that I work across the street from my wife, we can spend more time together." He pumped her hand up and down as he talked, and she briefly worried that he might dislocate her arm. Dr. Paolo must have felt the same way because he rescued her by handing her some paperwork.
"You earned your position here, Jason. When I spoke with Mrs. Delfin, she told me that you had been working on her after I left and that you did a wonderful job."
He blushed and shrugged his wide shoulders. "My grandparents raised me and my grandpa had a really bad case of arthritis. He's why I became a massage therapist in the first place. I like helping relieve people's pain. It makes me feel good inside."
"Not to mention that your lovely wife brought me over some delicious lumpia. I haven't had that since I was over in the Philippines back in the 80s." Dr. Paolo took the empty seat next to Jason and grabbed the squeeze ball that Violet kept at the edge of her desk. He was so full of energy that even when sitting he had to do something with his hands. She had discovered this after he constantly rearranged the small framed photos of her family and Adam that she kept on her desk. When she had strategically placed a squeeze ball in their place one day, Dr. Paolo had given her a sheepish grin and grabbed the ball instead of her pictures.
Jason grinned at him. "Wait until she hears that I got the job. You guys are going to be up to your ears in her home cooking." He leaned forward on his elbows and held Violet's gaze. "Really, thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me...killer."
She narrowed her eyes at him and just barely resisted the urge to stick out her tongue. After she broke Wendy's nose, Bethany had been calling her "killer" or Vicious Violet in a wrestling announcer's voice. She wished she could hire Bethany too, but unfortunately Bethany was trained as a makeup artist and that just didn't fit into the program.
Dr. Paolo gave the ball a good squeeze and crossed his legs. "For the first month you'll be working together with Violet, then we'll start to give you your own personal patients to work on." He gestured to the large envelope on the table. "We're still working on putting our official welcome packet together, but Violet has some articles for you to read and a bunch of forms you'll need to fill out for HR."
Jason nodded and grabbed the packet, holding it to his chest. His blue eyes sparkled as he grabbed Dr. Paolo's hand and pumped it up and down, squeeze ball and all. "I won't let you down."
Dr. Paolo gently extracted his hand while Violet stifled a giggle. "Before I forget." He fished around in the pocket of his white coat and pulled out a folded sheet of paper and handed it to Jason. "Next week we are having a charity event at the Detroit Institute of Arts. I'm sure your wife has mentioned it, but I wanted to extend my personal invitation. I would like it if you and your wife would attend. It's important that the muckity mucks put a face with our program when they dig into their pockets."
"Aren't you a muckity muck?" Violet asked in an innocent voice and gave Dr. Paolo wide eyes when he gave her a mock glare.
"I'll expect you to be there as well, schmoozing away with Jason to anyone who will stand still long enough to listen."
"What?" She dithered with the jellybeans on her desk in a bowl shaped like a dog bone. "I think I'm busy that night."
Jason cocked his head and examined her. "He didn't even say what night it is."
She gave him a nasty look but Jason only smiled back pleasantly. With his good looks and goofy personality it was easy to forget how annoyingly smart he could be. "I'm booked every night next week."
"Doing what?" Dr. Paolo asked with a barely suppressed smile.
"Roller Derby."
Jason snorted. "After the way you laid Wendy out on her ass I wouldn't be surprised."
Dr. Paolo stopped kneading the squeeze ball. "She did what?"
Jason looked expectantly at her, then shrugged and said, "Violet flipped---"
"Fine, I'll go!" she yelled over Jason and he shut up with a smug grin. "You're such an asshole."
The squeeze ball made a soft thump as it landed back on her desk. Dr. Paolo stood and stretched. "I need to get back to my rounds, so I'll leave you in Violet's capable hands. And Violet, I expect you at that fundraiser."
\*
Violet and Bethany strolled up the marble steps of the Detroit Institute of Art. An early warm spell kept the evening temperature in the 50s, and after having spent the last three months in below-zero wind chills it felt like being on the beach. They followed the glittering throng of people into the bronze-and-glass front doors. Once inside, they both stopped and stared at the massive crowd filling the foyer. The two-story entrance was flanked on either side by fantastic murals depicting the industrial revolution. Tables were set up on one side of the room, each representing a different department of the hospital complex.
"Wow," Bethany said in a soft voice as she tugged at the blue silk wrap that draped over her naturally tanned shoulders.
"Yeah," Violet echoed in the same stunned tone and smoothed the black cashmere halter dress, the same one that she had worn on her first date with Carlos. When picking out something to wear for the evening she had almost gone with something different, but decided to wear this dress instead. In an extra act of useless defiance she also wore the jewelry Carlos gave her.
Dr. Paolo had assured her that Carlos wouldn't be here, he was on a photo shoot somewhere, but Violet couldn't help but wish he was. A glimpse of a man with blond curly hair going into a room to the left deeper inside the building made her heart stop. For a moment she swore it was Morgan, but that was also impossible. Last time she heard from Morgan was when he had left her a message on her answering machine saying that he was going out of state for a month, and hoped she would talk to him when he got back.
Bethany snapped her out of her melancholy thoughts by tugging her forward. "Let's go find us some hot doctors."
Violet shook her head and grinned. Bethany was certainly dressed for the hunt, the blue silk dress clung to her petite frame and her dark hair lay in carefully tousled curls across her back. "There certainly are a lot of them here."
A handsome African-American man in an impeccable tux strolled by and Bethany made a low sound of approval. "I wonder if he has a twin brother."
Violet elbowed her and Bethany grinned. "What? You know how jealous I am of you and your---" She stopped and flushed beneath her makeup. "Sorry."
"It's okay. I'm over them." Bethany stared at her in disbelief and Violet lifted her chin. "Really. I am."
"Mmm hmm," Bethany replied and tried to stand on her tiptoes to see over the crowd. "I wonder what's going on back there?"
Violet craned her neck to see, but all she could make out was a mass of bodies waiting to get into one of the rooms toward the back, the same one she had seen the blond man go into. "Want to find out?"
Bethany led her through the crowd and stopped in surprise before they got more than a few steps. "Hey, isn't that your sister, Penny? And her hubby Brad?"
Violet followed her line of sight and found Penny beaming and making her way through the crowd toward them with Brad at her heels, apologizing as his wife bulldozed a path through the throng of people. Penny wore a sparkly lilac dress and had her hair pulled back in a French twist. "What the hell are they doing here?"
Before she could open her mouth, Penny crushed her into a hug and dragged her away from Bethany and Brad, pulling them against the edge of the mural. "I'm so glad I found you! Why haven't you returned my calls?"
Violet shrugged uncomfortably. "I've been busy."
"For a month and a half?" Penny sighed and gave her hand a squeeze. "I owe you an apology. It's my fault you and Morgan broke up, he's not gay. Brad lied to me."
"What?" She looked over Penny's shoulder at Brad who was talking to Bethany.
"Remember how I said I saw Morgan and Carlos holding hands? Well Brad knew that I was interested in Morgan, so he got them to pretend to be gay to throw me off the trail so he could make a play for my heart." She laughed and shook her head. "What a manipulative bastard, but I love him anyway."
Violet searched Penny's face, trying to decide how much she should, how much she could, tell her. "Penny, I know Morgan and Carlos aren't gay."
"Oh, I know that too. I talked to Morgan and apologized to him."
The floor dropped out beneath Violet's feet. "You did what?"
"When you wouldn't talk to me, I looked up Morgan in the phone book and called him. He told me the real reason you broke up with him...and Carlos."
Heat flooded Violet's cheeks until she thought she would pass out.
Penny actually giggled at her expression. "Violet, it's not that big of a deal. It's not like you were dating aliens or something. Well, to Dad it will probably be a big deal, but he'll mellow out. Maybe Mom can slip him some of her meds." Her laughter faded away, replaced by sympathy. "They were super-huge bastards for lying to you."
"I-I don't want to talk about it right now, 'kay? You know how we look when we cry our makeup off."
"Like scared albino rabbits." Penny licked her lips in a nervous gesture. "Look, I know I've been a real asshole lately and I'm really sorry." She swallowed and pressed her hand to her stomach. For a moment Violet was afraid she was going to be sick, but the smile that Penny gave her was incandescent with joy. "Brad and I have been trying to have a baby for three years. I've been on intensive hormone therapy and it made me a crazy woman. Like constant PMS...poor Brad. Anyway, last time I saw you I was all jacked up on hormone injections that made me even more crazy than usual before the IVF. We had just returned from the doctor and he had told us that they managed to fertilize two eggs, but the chances weren't very good."
"Penny, why didn't you tell me?"
Penny shrugged and gave Violet's hand a squeeze. "I didn't want Mom to know. You two are so close and I really didn't want to have to face her disappointment if it didn't work. You know how bad she wants grandbabies. I couldn't bear to tell her that we'd been trying so hard for so long with no success."
Violet understood perfectly what Penny was talking about. "Thank you for telling me."
Penny chewed on her lower lip and leaned closer. "Can you keep a secret?"
Hope blossomed in Violet's heart as she smiled at Penny. "Yeah."
"Don't tell Mom, but I'm pregnant!"
Violet realized she was screaming and jumping up and down only after she noticed people were staring at her with bemused expressions. Regaining control of her emotions, she grabbed Penny into a huge hug as Brad joined them.
"I take it you told her?" Brad asked and gently brushed his hand over Penny's still flat belly.
"Not all of it, but she does know that she'll be an aunt."
Bethany peeked from behind Brad's back and beamed. "Congratulations!"
"Thank you," Penny said and snuggled into Brad's side.
Violet felt a pang of jealousy and tried to swallow it. This was not the time for a self-absorbed pity party. "I'm so happy for you both. And don't worry, when Mom tells me I'll act surprised."
Penny toyed with the edge of Brad's jacket. "You need to go see the exhibit in the second room past the foyer on the left."
Puzzled by the abrupt change in conversation, still reeling from Penny's revelations, she pursed her lips and said, "Okay."
Brad gave Bethany a significant look and Bethany grabbed her arm, pulling her through the crowd like a little curly-haired, determined bull. Violet tried to jerk her arm away. "What is going on?"
"An apology," was all Bethany would say.
As they neared the crowd waiting to get into the room, Violet tugged her shawl over her shoulders as people turned and stared at her as she passed and whispers filled their wake. She glanced down to make sure one of the straps to her halter hadn't snapped and her boobs were hanging out. Nope, both girls were still in place and the jade-and-pearl necklace gleamed against her skin.
"Pardon me, coming through," Bethany called out in a loud voice and elbowed her way through the line of women in evening gowns and the men in tuxedos.
A young man in a tux blocked their way as they neared the front of the line. "Ma'am, I'm sorry but you'll---" He stopped and stared at Violet. "Oh, I didn't realize it was you. Come this way please." The smile he gave her was definitely flirty and Violet flushed beneath its heat.
Confused and getting irritated that everyone but her seemed to know what was going on, she walked into the doorway of the small gallery and stopped dead in her tracks.
A small wall stood between the entrance and the rest of the gallery, and on it hung a gigantic picture of her. With her pulse racing, she stared at the image. In it, she was giving Alia a massage. Half of the room was in black and white, the stark and austere hospital room with its machines and equipment. But the other half was bathed in vivid colors and transformed into an enchanted forest. The bed that Alia lay on was half hospital bed, half altar of flowers. The rich mahogany color of her skin shone and an elaborate crown rested against her bare head, her hair long gone to chemo. A golden butterfly perched on her hand on the unpainted portion of the room, full of stark and fragile splendor.
Carlos must have taken this picture through the open door, catching her unaware, knowing that if he saw her the beauty of the scene would be shattered by her rage.
Violet's gaze traveled the picture, finally resting on her own image. She too had been transformed by the artist's touch. Instead of the khakis and green top that she usually wore when she visited the children's clinic, she wore an elaborate robe that reminded her of the gown a goddess would wear. Her hair blazed against the background of the stark hospital and lush forest, strands of red and gold seeming to almost shimmer. An expression of deep peace transformed her face into something soft and delicate, and her small smile perfectly matched Alia's.
"Wow," Bethany said in a soft voice and wandered away from her side.
An excited hum of conversation came from behind her and more DIA employees crowded the doorway to get a look at her. She hesitated, trapped by the beauty of the image, and the knowledge of who brought it to life. Without a doubt she knew that Morgan and Carlos had done this. To her eyes their style was as clear as a stamp.
She floated deeper into the room, inspecting each picture that she passed. Not all of them were of her, though she was in many. They focused instead on the children of the pediatric unit. Here an image of a small and frail boy in a wheelchair. Well, half of him was in a wheelchair. The other half was dressed in shining Roman armor and his wheelchair was transformed into a chariot. A look of fierce pride filled eyes that were wise beyond his years.
The next showed a little blonde girl named Jenny who Violet had often worked with. She had leukemia and had been in and out of the hospital for as long as she could remember. Here she stood in the hallway of the hospital, holding onto her IV stand. The base of the stand was the same in stark black and white, but the little girl had been transformed into an elf, complete with pointed ears. Her blue eyes were enormous in her face and her expression was one of ageless serenity. The top of her IV had been transformed into a magical staff that flamed with blue fire.
Violet drifted among the pictures, pulled from one side of the room to the other by images of such beauty that her heart ached. How long had they been working on this together? How had they managed to capture so many images of her without her knowledge?
Toward the back of the room the walls had been formed into the shape of a small alcove and she approached it with her pulse thundering in her ears. She knew what lay on the other side of that wall. The banner hung over the entrance said it all.
My Violet.
Each step that took her closer was like walking through a heavy surf. Her legs seemed to weigh a thousand pounds one second, and the next they no longer even felt as if they were attached to her body. Her mind was strangely silent, but her body hummed and clamored for the men that were so close, but eons away.
Reality slammed back into place as she rounded the corner and caught sight of them.
Morgan and Carlos stared back at her with impassive expressions on their faces, but their eyes held enough emotion to bring her to her knees. Rather than face them, she turned to the four remaining pictures and gasped.
She looked beautiful.
Each portrait was taken of her as she slept and reflected the different seasons. In one picture she slumbered on a bed of white ermine and crimson sheets in the middle of a snow-covered birch forest. Holly was woven through her hair and snowflakes a few shades whiter than her pale skin covered her in a fall of sparkles. A small smile curved her lips and she wondered what she had been dreaming about.
The next showed spring. Once again she was on a bed, but this one was made of branches growing together to form an elaborate headboard and frame. A thin sheet the fresh green color of the buds on the trees barely covered her, leaving her thigh and the curve of her bottom exposed as she curled on her side like a child. That same secretive smile was on her lips as a blossom drifted eternally through the air toward her outstretched hand.
Carlos' voice stroked over her, raising goose bumps on her skin as he said, "Do you like it?"
She moved on to the picture of summer, all golden colors and her hair flaming like a bonfire. "They are beautiful."
Morgan's voice came from over her other shoulder. "I had the hardest time getting the color of your hair right. I had to beg Dr. Paolo to let me sneak into the hospital so I could look at you."
Someone's jacket brushed against her back and she froze, feeling the heat of both of their bodies. "Sounds a bit stalkeresque to me. And taking pictures of me in my sleep could get you jail time in some states."
Carlos sighed and stepped closer. "My dad forbade me from seeing you in his hospital, so I sweet-talked the PICU into letting me to take pictures of you there."
She didn't say anything, couldn't say anything. Feeling as if she was doing one of those silly trust exercises they were so fond of in therapy groups, she let herself lean backward, secure that they would catch her before she hit the ground. Her shoulders made contact with their solid chests and a shudder ripped through her body.
Fuck what strong women were supposed to do. She needed them like she needed sunlight and she'd been slowly dying on the inside without them.
"I'm so tired of hurting," she said in a soft voice and closed her eyes, breathing in deep their scent.
They reached across her at almost the same moment and held her close. Both men nuzzled her hair and Carlos said, "You can punish me for the rest of my life, just please don't leave me."
Morgan stroked his hand down the side of her face with a slight tremble in his touch. "Beat me, chain me up, call me every horrible name you can think of. I deserve it all and more, just please don't leave me."
"No," she said in a weary voice.
The both froze behind her, turning as stiff as living statues. "I see," Carlos said and started to step away.
With the loss of his heat at her back she felt chilled from the inside out. "No, you idiot. I don't want to beat you. Submissive men do nothing for me. They're so damn needy."
Morgan spun her around and dropped to his knees in front of her. "Please, give us a chance."
"Us?" Her lips narrowed into a line as her fading anger flared. "You still both want to date me? Even now that your little game is over?"
Carlos put his fingers beneath her chin and tilted her head up to look at him. "It was never a game with us, Violet."
"It was a stupid, immature, idiotic plan that got way out of hand," Morgan added and placed a kiss on her palm.
Carlos' dark eyes held her as he stroked his thumb over her lips. "We want to show you how well we can work together for your pleasure."
Morgan nibbled her fingertips, with a hint of teeth scraping her skin. "We'll wait as long as you want, do anything to earn your trust back."
The proper thing to do would be to make them grovel and beg, ignore and punish them until she had her emotional vengeance. Good thing she wasn't a proper woman. "Your place or mine?"
Carlos stared at her while Morgan burst into laughter and stood next to him. Looking from one to the other, her heart surged, purging some of the bitter pain that had filled it, joy pouring in to fill its place. Each man grabbed her hand and she practically flew past the startled crowd and out the door as they raced to take her home.
\*
They ended up at her place and Adam had been overjoyed to see them. Each of them took a moment to greet the four-legged man of the house before Violet kicked off her heels and started to tear at their clothing. Adam took off for the peace and quiet of the guest room as buttons flew and both men were soon naked and very aroused.
There was no time for play, that would come later. Right now she had to have them inside her, fucking the life back into her. Proving they were here, not something dreamed up by her wounded heart. Her body was certainly ready, the flesh of her pussy swollen and wet as she licked her palms and grabbed their shafts in her hands. Each man made a sound low in his throat as she stroked them, her wet fists pumping their cocks.
"On the couch." She released Carlos and pushed him back, shimmying out of her panties.
He complied and looked over her shoulder with a nod. Before she knew it her dress was pushed up over her hips and she was bent over with her mouth inches away from Carlos' erection. Her protest died on her lips as Morgan kicked her feet apart and went to work on eating her pussy like a starving man.
At her first moan Carlos guided her mouth to his cock and grunted as she took as much of him into her as she could. She wanted it hard and fast, and she took that urge out on his cock. She would suck as much of him in as she could, loving the way he tensed and groaned beneath her. Morgan wasn't in the mood for teasing either, and he quickly drew a small, hard orgasm from her with his mouth between her legs. Little aftershocks trembled through her as Carlos stroked his fingers over the space where her mouth met his cock. A sudden coolness at her back let her know Morgan was gone. She tried to see where he went, but Carlos began to fuck her face in earnest and all she could do was lick and suck him. The thought of him fighting off the orgasm that she was trying to tear from him made her already wet pussy throb.
He was deep in her throat when Morgan grabbed her ass and spread her cheeks, pouring lube over her bottom. A shudder of anticipation had her bucking her hips into his hand as he slid first one, then two fingers into her bottom. It burned and she loved it.
Morgan withdrew his fingers and gave her a hard slap on the ass. "Be a good girl and stuff Carlos' cock into that hot, wet cunt of yours, my Violet."
Carlos slipped on a condom as she hiked her dress around her waist and straddled him. There was something very erotic about still wearing her dress while they were naked. Morgan reached around from behind her and pulled her breasts free from her halter top, squeezing and tugging on her erect nipples as Carlos slowly slid inside of her.
A little sob tore from her throat as she finally had him sheathed all the way inside. She cupped her hands over Morgan's and whispered, "I want you inside me."
"Fuck him first," Morgan breathed into her ear. He sat down next to them on the couch and stroked his cock while she licked her lips. Carlos pulled her attention back to him by reaching beneath her skirt and giving her clit a hard pinch. The pleasure-pain rocketed through her and she could only close her eyes and ride the sensations.
Carlos' cock scraped against the swollen tissue of her pussy as he gripped her hips and forced her to ride him hard and fast. Her breath came out in a little pant each time her clit made contact with his pelvis and he rocked her hips back and forth, grinding her against him. The edge of her orgasm rapidly approached and she became lost in her body connected with his.
He abruptly stopped her and held her still as she made little pleading sounds. "She's about to come. Her pussy is tight and snug around my cock and her nipples are a fantastic hot-pink color."
To her surprise, Morgan fingered her ass and she shuddered. He gave her a slap on her bottom. "You will not come until we tell you to."
All she could do was nod and sob as he gently pushed her forward. Carlos cradled her against his chest, her ass up and open in the air. A moment later foil ripped and Morgan began to slide his long cock into her ass. The pain was intense and she squirmed against Carlos while he groaned.
"Fuck, she's going to make me come without even moving."
Morgan grabbed a handful of her hair, tipping her head back so he could whisper in her ear. "Do you feel that? Do you feel my cock pushing into you...rubbing against Carlos' cock...filling you."
"Yes, Master," she said as she fought to keep her body still. It was true, she could feel where Carlos' and Morgan's cocks pressed against each other inside her. The sensation was amazing, despite the pain of his intrusion. She was very glad that she had continued to play with her ass while they were apart, otherwise the pain would have been too much.
Right now, it was perfect.
When Morgan was finally all the way inside her, he stayed still while Carlos began to move. Long, slow drags that quickly drove her to the edge. She trembled, biting her lip and resting her head on Carlos' chest. Morgan reached around and played with her nipples while Carlos held her ass cheeks open.
Her desperate moans became pleading as they both began to move. She tried desperately to think of something, anything that would keep her from coming. Each stroke pulled a "please" from her lips until she said it in a mindless chant.
Carlos groaned. "I can't hold out much longer. This feels fucking fantastic."
"Me neither. Her asshole looks so pretty stretched around my cock. I want to empty myself inside her and feel her pussy squeeze us, milking us dry."
Carlos shifted her hips until her clit pressed on his pubic bone. "Come for us, my Violet."
Morgan leaned over and bit the side of her neck, jabbing into her ass with short, hard thrusts. Her whole body tightened until she thought her muscles were going to snap, then released in a contraction so hard both men shouted. White flashed before her eyes and a pleasure so intense it must be illegal made her jerk and dance between them.
She screamed again as they both buried themselves as deep as they could go, their cocks pulsing and jerking inside her, against each other while they came. Carlos shook beneath her with the strength of his orgasm while Morgan moved the tiniest bit in and out of her, gripping her hips hard enough to bruise.
With a shuddering moan she collapsed against Carlos' chest, licking at the salt of his sweaty skin, completely sated to the point of being one step away from slipping into a coma of bliss. Morgan slowly pulled out of her and she mewled in protest, her battered anus throbbing. Carlos continued to hold her, pet and stroke her as he told her over and over how sorry he was, and how much he loved her.
Morgan returned a few moments later and cleaned her bottom with a warm, wet towel and gently lifted her off Carlos' cock. While Carlos used the bathroom, he tenderly laid her on the couch and crouched next to her, cleaning her and placing reverent kisses all over her body. When he reached her lips he said, "I love you. I never want to lose you again, ever. It felt like a piece of me died."
She returned his kiss, not breaking contact once as he picked her up and carried her to her room. The covers were already turned back and Carlos waited for them. With a grateful sigh she slipped between them and closed her eyes as they cuddled her close. The scent of their lovemaking rose from her skin and she breathed it deep, pulling the proof of their reunion into her lungs.
"I'm still mad at you," she said softly and traced her fingertips over their bodies.
"You have every right to be," Carlos said in a soft voice and pulled her leg up so it rested on his hip.
Morgan licked at the pulse on the side of her neck. "Even if it takes the rest of our lives, we'll prove to you that you aren't making a mistake."
Carlos slipped his hand between them, stroking her clit until it grew hard enough to poke out of its soft hood. "Is there anything we can do to make you forgive us?" he asked in a low, suggestive tone.
She squirmed against his fingers as Morgan rubbed the head of his cock back and forth against her wet and tender slit. "Can I spank you?"
Carlos laughed and gave her pussy a light slap. "No."
"Well that's not fair."
"Nope," Morgan agreed in a merry voice and pressed his thumb against her tender anus.
"Will you spank me?"
"Among other things," Carlos said in a soft voice as he leaned down to capture one of her nipples between his lips.
"I can't wait to take her to her first fetish club," Morgan said with rough need in his voice. His cock continued to tease her pussy as he slid back and forth, coating himself with her juice but denying her penetration.
"I can't wait to watch her suck your dick while I fuck her."
"Hmmm, that too."
"Do I get any say in this?" she asked in a breathless voice.
"Of course. In matters outside the bedroom you will always have an equal say."
"But in the bedroom you're ours to fuck, ours to play with, ours to please."
She bucked her hips against Morgan, trying to slip his bare cock into her pussy. Morgan groaned and held her hips still, returning to running the ridge of his cock head back and forth over her pussy as Carlos bit her nipple and stroked her clit, occasionally pressing the head of Morgan's cock against her and rubbing it over her erect nub.
"Sounds perfect," she purred as she thought of all the fun they would have together in a future filled with more love than she could have ever imagined on that lonely New Year's when she had sent in her wishes and dreams across cyberspace to Literary Love.
About the Author
Ann is Queen of the Castle to her wonderful husband and three sons in the mountains of West Virginia. In her past lives, she's been an Import Broker, a Communications Specialist, a U.S. Navy Civilian Contractor, a Bartender/Waitress and an actor at the Michigan Renaissance Festival. She also spent a summer touring with the Grateful Dead---though she will deny to her children that it ever happened.
From a young age she's been fascinated by myths and fairytales, and the romances that often were the center of the stories. As Ann grew older and her hormones kicked in, she discovered trashy romance novels. Great at first, but she soon grew tired of the endless stories with big, wonderful, emotional buildups to really short and crappy sex. Never a big fan of purple prose (throbbing spears of fleshy pleasure and wet honey pots make her giggle), she sought out books that gave the sex scenes in the story just as much detail and plot as everything else---without using cringe-worthy euphemisms. This led her to the wonderful world of Erotic Romance, and she's never looked back.
Now Ann spends her days trying to tune out cartoons playing in the background to get into her "sexy space" and has learned to type one-handed while soothing a cranky baby.
Ann welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Discover for yourself why readers can't get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora's Cave. Whether you prefer ebooks or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.

