Bile swished around my stomach. Great. I was going to throw up in the middle of Central Park outside a five-star restaurant.
“What sort of depraved, dirty game are you playing?” I demanded. “You knew… You’ve known.”
His face was expressionless, but something in his eyes told me he was ashamed.
“I had planned on telling you, Paige. Tonight, after dinner, I swear.”
Still dizzy from finding out who he really was, I steadied myself against a tree and looked up at the swirling snow. My mind raced from one disjointed thought to another, and the coppery taste of bitterness and disappointment soured my mouth.
“Sure you were. Right after you’d fucked me. Were you ever going to pull off your mask and reveal your true identity? Who’s the real you, Wyatt? The guy in the room or the guy in front of me?”
“I’m one and the same.”
I forced out a high-pitched laugh. “Billionaire by day. Dom by night. Exactly what the world needs, a BDSM superhero. What’s your superpower? Fingers faster than a speeding bullet? Ten orgasms a minute?”
“You came into the club and into my room,” he accused. “You were planning on writing a story about innocent people who get their kinks and satisfaction in a safe, sane, and consensual environment. You came to the party under false pretenses.”
“I was naked in front of you. You saw all of me. I’ve never…”
Rage reddened his face. “I didn’t force you to take your clothes off. I didn’t force you to get on the bed. I didn’t force you to have multiple orgasms. I didn’t force you to get down on your knees in front of me. And don’t pretend that after we’d finished dinner, you hadn’t planned on going back to the club for more instruction.”
I crossed my arms and glared at him. “For your information, I wasn’t.”
“Stop lying. You wanted to go back to the club for more. You’re a sub, Mouse. Admit it.”
“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare call me that.”
Humiliation pushed me to say more and more, but before I said something I could never take back, I stormed away. I heard him come after me, but I didn’t stop walking until I was by the road. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me around to face him.
I shook him off and shoved my palms against his chest, but since he was made of solid muscle, he didn’t move.
“Don’t you ever fucking touch me again. I’m not your slave, I’m not your sub, and you’re not my master,” I spat at him.
I flagged down a cab, and when it stopped, I gave Wyatt what I thought was a tight-lipped smile, but when I glimpsed my reflection in the passenger window, my smile resembled a rabid dog’s snarl. I slid into the cab and closed the door, being careful not the slam it.
It wasn’t the driver’s fault I’d gotten myself involved with a lying sack of shit. I was also careful not to look back at Wyatt when the cab pulled away from the curb because if I did, I was afraid I’d go back and fall to my knees.
***
Halfway to my apartment, my phone rang. It was him. I didn’t want to talk to him, or anyone else so I set my phone to silent.
I needed time to process everything that had happened. All along he’d known who I was. At his apartment when I’d interviewed him, he knew. Last night at the club when I’d sucked his cock, he knew. I couldn’t believe it.
How could he have put me through that? I ignored the small voice of reason attempting to make me see I was as much at fault as Wyatt was. But how could that be true? In fairness, the first night, he didn’t know, but last night, yesterday and today, he did. Fucking lying bastard piece of crap asshole.
If I’d known the man in the mask was Wyatt Palmer, the man whose company I adored, the man who made me realize what it meant to be a journalist, would I have gone back to the club last night? Or considered going back tonight? I wish I knew the answer to that. Not that it mattered because whatever we had, or potentially had, was gone.
Once I reached my apartment, I threw my bag onto the foyer floor, ripped off my hat and threw that onto the floor along with my mittens and coat. I wanted to throw more things. I wanted to break things. I wanted to scream and curse and argue. I paced up and down my apartment, wearing a path into the hardwoods, and when a knock rattled the front door, I didn’t have to guess who it was.
“Paige, open up. We have to talk.”
“Get the fuck away from my door before I call the police.”
“If you don’t let me in, I’m going to break the door down.”
I relented and opened up but only because on top of all the crap the universe was throwing my way, the last thing I needed was for my neighbors to lodge a noise complaint.
“How did you know where I live?” I asked.
“I know everything about you,” he answered.
I had known it was a stupid question as soon as I’d asked him. A man like him could find out anything for any price.
Damn him for being so rich. And damn him for looking so fucking hot.
“You have five minutes,” I said through gritted teeth.
He strode into my apartment, and I cursed myself for missing the signs. Everything about him, from his stance to his body language to the set of his shoulders was the same as the masked man’s. And, I couldn’t help but want him.
“Tell me the truth,” he demanded, his hands bunched into fists. “Were you going to go back to the club tonight for more instruction?”
I hesitated because after spending the evening with the masked man’s alter ego, I wasn’t sure what I’d planned to do. Wyatt didn’t need to know that all day my body had tingled at the thought of going back to the club. But during our date, I’d reconsidered everything.
“I wasn’t going back.”
He stepped forward until our bodies were a breath apart. “Don’t lie to me, Mouse.”
“My name is Paige.”
Electricity charged the air between us, and the power emanating from him hardened my nipples and soaked my panties. Damn him. Damn him. Damn him.
“If I told you to, you would strip off your clothes and get on your knees right now,” he said, obviously feeling pretty confident that he was right.
Red hot anger raged inside of me. Anger at him for his conceit and deceit, but more than that, more than anything, anger at myself for being so naïve and gullible.
“You already have a girlfriend or a sub or a slave. Or whatever the fuck Vivian is.”
“Vivian is nothing to me. We had a contractual relationship and that was it. Not a real relationship. And anyway, it’s done. It’s over.”
“Who’s lying now, Wyatt?”
The urge to throw things took hold again, and I picked up a potted cactus from the hall table. “You’re an arrogant fuck and a liar and a sadist and a bastard.”
I flung the plant towards him, making sure not to throw it directly at him. My aim was pretty good; it narrowly missed his head and crashed against the door. “Next time I won’t miss.”
I grabbed an umbrella from the coat stand, but before I could lob it in his direction, he grabbed my wrists and pinned me against the wall, forcing me to drop my weapon.
“Enough,” he ordered. “You’re my sub, and you will do what I say.”
“I hate you.” My estrogen-drenched and treacherous body ached for him. I wished it didn’t want him so damn much.
“You might not like me right now, but you don’t hate me.” He pressed his lips to my cheek, and said. “I was wrong to lie, but I’m not lying when I say I want you like I’ve never wanted anyone. You’ve lit a fire inside of me and the only way I can quench it is to have you.”
“I don’t want you.” I struggled to get away, but his grip was too powerful. “Let me go.”
“If you want me to leave, I will, but once I walk out that door, you’ll never see me again. Is that what you want, Mouse?”
His hard cock pressed against my stomach and I groaned in frustration.
“That’s what I thought,” he murmured against my cheek. “I’m going to do something I haven’t done in a long time. Something I’ve thought about doing since the second you walked into my room.”
He lowered his head and slanted his lips over mine. His kiss was deep and hard and consumed my soul. I was lost to him. I knew Wyatt Palmer was my master. Taking the kiss deeper, he slid his tongue between my lips.
He released his grip on my wrists and continued to slowly kiss me until my head spun. My skin heated, and I wanted everything he was willing to give me.
By the time he broke away, I was a trembling mass of need.
“Mine,” he said, and cupped my cheeks.
He sucked on my lower lip, drawing it into his mouth, and when he released me, that wicked smile of his tightened my stomach.
Breathless, I pressed my back against the wall and waited for whatever came next.
He stepped away and tore off his coat and shirt and kicked off his shoes, and when he wore nothing more than jeans, he pulled the belt from the loops.
“When you’re with me, what’s the first thing you’re supposed to do, Mouse?”
Desire and defiance warred within me, but I wanted him so much it physically hurt. Desire won.
“I get undressed.”
“I get undressed what?”
“Master.”
“That’s better.”
With shaking fingers, I removed my clothes and threw them on the floor, and when I was fully naked, I planted my hands on my hips as if daring him to order me to pick my clothes up.
He lifted an eyebrow but said nothing.
Never had I felt as vulnerable or as strong as I did right now. I was the one in control. I held the power. And that realization turned me on more than anything.
“Your bedroom, sub. Tonight, I’m going to show you what having a Master really means.”