"Will the flight crew be staying in New York?" I asked him, changing the subject. I was sick of talking in circles.
"No. They all turn around and go back to Las Vegas. Why?"
I shrugged. "Just curious." I'd considered getting Bianca's number from him, or even her schedule, but I knew he wouldn't cooperate. He'd just see it as something he could use as leverage. I'd find another way.
I didn't even get a moment alone with her as we deplaned, though I tried. Fucking Bram lingered, though, so I just nodded at her. "A pleasure, Bianca," I told her on my way out, my mind coming up with the numerous ways that I planned to pleasure her in the very near future.
It was a graphic visual.
"A pleasure, Mr. Cavendish," she repeated back politely.
Not yet, I thought, but it will be.
I parted ways with Bram as soon as I could, striding swiftly towards where I knew Clark would have a car waiting at the curb.
I nodded at him as I slid into the backseat.
"To the hotel?" he asked with a raised brow.
"To the apartment," I said. I could tell he was surprised by that answer. I rarely quit working this early in the day. I knew it was useless to even try to work just then, though. I couldn't concentrate on a damn thing. My mind was stuck on that woman . . .
Clark began to drive, but he kept shooting me questioning looks in the rearview. "You meeting a woman, sir?" he asked.
It was a nosy question, but I was used to it. The man was so good at his job, and had been working for me for so long, that he'd gone beyond the role of employee to that of a friend, and we both knew he could say whatever he wanted and I wouldn't be offended. "No, Clark."
"Maybe you should. You look like you could use one."
I shot him a sardonic look. It was disconcerting how well he could read me. "No, but I need you to find one for me, actually. Her name is Bianca."
"No last name?" he asked without missing a beat. It wasn't as though I asked him to find women for me often. He was just an unflappable kind of guy.
"No. She's a flight attendant, and her name is Bianca. That's all I know."
"Walker's airline?"
"Yes."
"Physical description."
"Tall, blonde . . . beautiful. She looks like a model. I need her schedule ASAP. I could also use a number, address, anything you can get your hands on, really."
He sighed. "I'll see what I can do. It'll be a pain in my ass."
"I'll be eternally grateful."
"I know."
I felt a little lost when I walked into my apartment. I'd taken the afternoon off. But to do what? If I weren't acting like a besotted fool over a stranger, I'd have called one of the five women I knew that were in the city who could cater to my specific needs. I had no desire to, though, and that was the problem.
I felt dazed as I walked directly to the master bathroom, stripped down, and got into the shower. I didn't use cold water, but steaming hot. I closed my eyes and leaned against the tiled wall, picturing those devouring blue eyes of hers again. They'd been steady, but so submissive, as though she knew just what I needed from her.
Needed, I thought. Yes, that was the word.
I soaped my hand, stroked my throbbing cock and remembered how she'd blushed for me, and her little smile, and of course, those mesmerizing eyes.
Fuck, I thought in shock, coming in a few short strokes. And worse, that release wasn't enough. I was jerking myself off again within a few short moments. I felt like a teenager again, jacking myself off repeatedly in the shower.
I didn't even consider finding a woman to ease myself with. That was the worst of it. I knew I would find more satisfaction just thinking about her, than actually having another woman.
Bianca was trouble for me, I knew it, and still, I didn't give a fuck. I was going to have her.
I brought myself to another orgasm, gripping my length tightly, then began stroking again before I'd even finished, in danger of rubbing my own cock raw, thinking about a woman that I'd never even seen naked.
I thought about her body that time, about that neat little dress suit covering delectably round breasts, slender hips, and the best pair of legs I'd ever seen. I stroked my cock harder.
I remembered the delicate wrist I'd studied as she'd served me. I pictured tying those wrists to my bed as I jerked hard on my aching cock and came again with a rough groan.
It was early, but that didn't stop me from drying off and going straight to bed. I dreamed that night about silky blonde hair and pale blue eyes that I could lose myself in.
I'd only met her once. Why did it feel like I'd wanted her forever?
CHAPTER THREE
MY PURGATORY
PRESENT
"What will I do if she doesn't make it through this? How is it possible that I could find something, someone like this, and then lose it? What's the point of it all?"
And what about Stephan? He was in worse shape. What would I do if he didn't make it? How would I tell her a thing like that?
She was in surgery, and they weren't giving me nearly enough information to cope. I knew she was getting the best care possible, but it didn't help alleviate the purgatory I was experiencing as I waited to see if it would be enough.
Tristan's eyes were sympathetic in a way that let me know he'd been through hell and back, too. He existed every day in a purgatory of his own, I knew.
The poor bastard.
"First of all, she's going to pull through this," he said quietly. "I know it. The fact that she's still breathing, after everything that happened tells us that. But also, James. About the how, and the why. A love like that makes you better, even if you lose it all, even if it was for one precious moment in your life, you can't be sorry that you had it. Trust me on this."
CHAPTER FOUR
MY RITUAL
PAST
I checked my watch again, then took it off impatiently, tossing it into a drawer.
She was supposed to be here in fifteen minutes, but I'd been ready for her for hours. I was too preoccupied to work, instead putting my efforts into grueling workouts and dinner prep.
I began to pace.
I was antsy, distracted, and restless in a way that was foreign to me.
I'd dismissed my staff halfway through the day, needing total solitude in this strange mood of mine.
For the first time that I could remember, I wasn't sure how the evening was supposed to play out or the best way to handle things. This sort of meeting usually only went one way for me. It didn't start with dinner, and it didn't end with a sleepover.
I didn't know what she wanted from me, or what she expected, and that was the whole problem, because I wanted many things from her. Things she didn't seem remotely interested in.
It was safe to say I'd never run into this problem before.
Taking off my watch was no help, as I was checking the time again a scant two minutes later.
Where was she? Would she really cut it this close?
With a curse, I sought out a phone and called her.
"Hello," Bianca answered breathlessly.
It had me on instant alert, my entire body stiffening. "Where are you?" I heard myself asking, voice unwillingly harsh.
"I was just about to head out," she said, tone so strange that I found myself dissecting every word, looking for a clue to what it was about it that had my jaw clenching.
"I'll be there in about twenty minutes," she continued, "if I don't make any wrong turns."
"What's going on? You sound strange. And you're going to be late. This is one of many reasons why I wanted to send a driver."
"I'll be right there." Her voice broke on that sentence, and that's when I knew what I heard in her voice.
Desire. Need.
"What are you doing?" I purred, eyes closing in pleasure. If she was in this state now, I knew just how to control the situation, and the shift in power gave me instant relief. Reaching down, I pinched the tip of my erect cock hard. "Why do yo
u sound so breathless?"
There was a long pause on the other end, but finally she answered, "Nothing."
A lie.
My jaw clenched, and I pinched myself harder. "Are you touching yourself?" I bit out.
"No," she lied again.
"Do you remember what I said I'd do to you if you lied to me?" I asked her, in equal parts turned on and infuriated by her defiance. "I believe that's three times now. Don't make yourself come. Your cunt is mine, and so is your pleasure. You're not allowed to come unless I say so."
She moaned, and I just about came in my hand.
"If you don't get into your car this second, I'm coming there, and then I won't let you come for hours," I barked, hanging up on her.
I went into the one of the property's control rooms, waiting impatiently for her vehicle, my mind filled with the ways I would own her in a few short minutes.
It was her first time, but I didn't want to take it slow or easy on her, didn't know if I was capable of it. Was she a true masochist? Would she find some enjoyment even in that sort of pain?
I was beyond impatient, yearning, longing to find out.
I opened the gate as soon as I finally saw a car approach, shrugging out of my shirt and heading to the entrance hall to watch for her.
I swung the front door wide as she reached the bottom of the small set of stairs that led up to the entrance, taking her in with gimlet-eyed satisfaction.
She paused there, and we stared at each other for a long time.
The lust in the air just then was so thick I felt like I could reach out and touch it with my hand. Could stick out my tongue and taste it. It was heady, drugging.
All-consuming.
She wore a sheer black dress with flowers painted across it. It was flimsy, revealing her figure even in the near dark.
Even delivered to my doorstep, clearly dressed for sex, she looked cool and untouchable.
I would make her touchable. I knew it and she knew it, and it drove me wild.
"Get in here," I told her, wondering how I was even going to last from here to the bedroom.
She obeyed without a word, her expression stoic.
I was taking up most of the open doorway, which forced her to brush very close to me.
I sucked in a breath.
Just how out of line would it be to take her virginity on the floor of my entryway? How uncouth and unforgivable? I wondered. Because it was about a second away from happening.
"I had dinner ready, but that's going to have to wait," I informed her, my tone clipped, patience shot. "You're a little minx, you know that?"
She shook her head, looking nonchalant as she glanced around.
Her silence made my jaw clench. I didn't know what to do with it.
"I gave my entire staff the night off, so we're quite alone," I explained to her, to reassure her of our privacy in the event that I did, in fact, take her where she stood.
I held onto my control by the thinnest thread. I'd had my fingers inside of her, had felt the barrier of her hymen, and been obsessed with it ever since. I'd had time to dwell on just why it consumed my thoughts and came to the conclusion that it was the ownership it gave me. It was mine to take, to claim, to break, and in the breaking, I'd own a part of her that no one else had ever touched.
She ignored me as though I hadn't spoken, moving to run her hand along the heavy rail of the stairway that ran to the second floor.
I couldn't take it. I moved behind her, a breath away from touching her, a heartbeat away from losing it.
"Where's your bedroom?" she asked, her tone damn near casual.
A deep, primitive hunger rocked through my body. I shuddered in pleasure, my hand gripping her nape. I squeezed, then began to rub.
She leaned into the contact.
I grabbed her hair, making it into a handle at her nape, and began to lead her upstairs.
If she was going to refrain from all artifice, all teasing, I could restrain myself for at least the time I took to get near my bed.
I led her like that to my bedroom, stopping just inside of the door to let her take it in.
I'd arranged things just how I liked them, not pulling any punches. I wanted no misunderstanding here.
Restraints hung from the latticed top of the bed, others strewn at the posters. It was spelled out in barbaric letters all over the room. This was where I would take her body, claim ownership of it.
"Are those ropes?" she finally asked breathlessly.
"Yes," I answered, watching her.
"Is that a riding crop?"
If I'd been capable of idle chat, I'd have asked her then if she liked riding, if she knew how, but I was not. My vision had gone into tunnel vision just then, with only one thing on my mind.
"Yes," I said, moving to nudge her forward with my hand in her hair until she was only steps from the bed. "I have more toys that I want to use on you, but I didn't want to intimidate you by laying them all out."
She laughed, and it was a touch hysterical.
That only made my heart pound harder. "You need to pick a safe word," I told her.
I watched her heavy breasts move as she took a deep breath. "I assume you know I've never done any of this before?" It was a question.
That got to me, because I did know it. It had become the single biggest obsession of my life these past days.
"Yes," I breathed, voice thick and intense.
She paused before finally answering, "Sotnos."
"Sotnos?" I questioned, rolling the word around in my mouth, like she had.
"Yes," she said shortly. Nothing else.
Infuriating woman.
I pulled on her hair hard, tilting her head back and to the side until she looked at me. "There are rules here," I explained harshly. "I become your Master in here, and I will punish you when you defy me. I will read your reactions, and try not to go too far, but if I do, or if there's something you just can't handle, that's the word you use."
She didn't seem the least intimidated, in fact her chin had lifted defiantly at my words. "What about outside of here? Didn't you say you would punish me for lying to you? But we weren't in here when I lied to you."
I smiled. I enjoyed her spirit. "There are exceptions. I will never lie to you, and I expect you to learn to do the same. Tell me what your safe word means."
She shook her head, jaw set stubbornly. "No."
I drew in a steadying breath. "Would you rather take more lashes than just tell me what that means?"
She didn't hesitate to nod. "Yes." She sounded confident.
I studied her. "How about an exchange?" I cajoled. "Is there something I could give you in exchange for that information? Something you want to know about me? Something you want in general?"
Again, she didn't hesitate, shaking that stubborn head of hers.
I gripped her hair harder. "You're driving me crazy," I told her softly, maneuvering her towards the bed. "We need to talk. We need to figure out this arrangement. But I can't wait any more for this. Nothing has ever made me feel this wild before. I need to mark you. I need to own you. I need to punish you. I need to open you up and strip every detail out of you. And I will get you to tell me what that word means to you."
There was a pregnant pause, where she neither agreed nor protested.
"Lift your arms," I told her when I'd moved her very close to the bed.
She did, and I peeled her dress off her swiftly, sucking in a breath at the sight that greeted me.
I was feverish with want. I needed everything at once. To touch her, to taste her mouth. To take out my cock, make her suck it, climb inside of her bare.
I restrained myself. Barely.
Instead, I circled, eyes devouring every sweet inch of her. She wore nothing but a bra and thong now, her big breasts heavy and swelling out of the thin material of her joke of a bra, the coral tips pebbled into tight, hard peaks. Best rack I'd seen in my life, bar none.
I bent down swiftly and bit her through her bra. Hard
.
She made a delicious little noise, and I straightened, continuing to circle her.
I snapped her tiny little thong as I passed her hip. She was shapelier than I'd realized, her torso more hourglass than straight, rounding into soft hips that were just perfect for gripping.
"You are too much," I told her as I studied her shapely little ass. "A virgin with the sexiest body I've ever seen in my life. Too fucking perfect."
I knelt behind her, leaned forward and bit one pert cheek hard.
She sobbed in a breath and glanced back at me.
I kissed the mark I'd left there, looking up to meet her eyes.
She turned to face forward again, her breathing agitated.
I fingered the tiny scrap of material at her hip. "I want to cut all of your clothes off, but I love everything I see you wear, and I have no idea where you got any of it, so I don't know how to replace it."
"The thongs are from Victoria's Secret. So is the bra."
I smiled at her approvingly, then slapped her ass.
"Don't move," I ordered, moving to grab a knife.
The look on her face made me laugh. "It's just for cutting clothes. I would never cut your skin. The thought is abhorrent to me. I just want to blister it a little."
I moved to her, grabbing the front of her bra, pulling it out, and cutting it cleanly in one motion, taking the cups apart.
I watched her nipples tighten, pinching them several times, each time harder than the next. "How sensitive are they? Did you like the first touch better, or the last?" I pinched harder, until she moaned, and had to stifle my own moan. "Or the fourth time?"
She swallowed hard but answered quickly. "The fourth."
"Good. I have something for you." I went back to the nightstand drawer, put the knife away, and grabbed a pair of nipple clamps I'd picked out earlier.
The clamps were peach colored, with a silver chain connected between them. I wrapped the chain around the back of her neck, fastening it there.