Chapter 7
Rayven Bridges…her name rolls off my tongue like the sweetest tasting wine you’ve ever had. Fresh-picked flowers still invade my sense of smell when I think about her. My hands burn with the desire to touch her again, to feel the wetness coating her lace panties, the proof she wanted me as much as I wanted her.
But…she was terrified to be in that room with me. I had no choice but to let her go because there is a difference in excited fear, anticipation of what’s to come, and a natural anxiety. Rayven didn’t have those reactions; hers were fear that I would hurt her, of something terrible, anxiety and nervousness because she had no idea what she walked into—she wasn’t prepared, bottom line.
I left the light on in the bathroom that night because I wanted to see her. Maggie was right; she is young, she’s beautiful, and she doesn’t belong in the escort business. Rayven was scared. I would tell Maggie she ran out, and the fear I had seen in her eyes when I was so close to her told me I needed to help her out of this.
She asked me through text why I would pay for her when she ran out. I replied with because I wanted her and will have her, but it’s more than that. I did it because she deserves better than a life of opening her legs for strange men—she deserves the chance to live a full life and not have it taken too soon if she steps into the wrong room with the wrong person. I believe Maggie was in the wrong for hiring her.
If you ask me why I have chosen Rayven and not Celeste, Dawn, Candy, or any of the other girls…
I can’t answer that question. All I can say is something unexplainable happened in that hotel room, or maybe it started with the first messages sent between the two of us. Since then, we have messaged back and forth every day. I’m breaking my rules for this woman and I have no idea why. Speaking of, my burner pings with a new message.
R: Why do you wear a mask?
I smile at today’s question.
Me: Because I need to keep my identity a secret.
R: Hmm ok I understand that. Why do you like the control?
Me: When you are ready you will understand that too.
R: Did you just winky face me? Mr. Freedman, I do believe I have created a monster lol.
Me: I was already a monster, Ms. Bridges. Have a goodnight.
R: I don’t know about that. You did a nice thing for me. Goodnight, Mr. Freedman, Sir.
She has no idea. I set the phone back on my dresser and grab my black tuxedo jacket off the hanger right as a knock sounds at my bedroom door. “Come in.”
Penny opens the door. “Brent is waiting.” She walks closer. “Here, let me.” She takes the jacket from me, and I turn to face the mirror. “I’d like to meet her.”
My brow arches, and my eyes meet hers in the mirror. “Who?”
“The woman that has put that smile on your face for the last two weeks.” I didn’t realize it was so apparent, but Penny has known me for most of my life.
“Maybe one day, Penny.” I turn to face her.
“So handsome,” she mumbles then runs her hands down the front of my jacket. “After everything you have been through, Jameson, you deserve some happiness.”
Stepping away, I grab my wallet and both phones. “Tell Brent I’ll be right out,” I say as I sit on the edge of my bed to put my shoes on.
I stare out the back window of the Bentley at cars passing by, people walking down the sidewalk trying to get to their destinations, and the lights from the busy city shining brightly against the dark night sky.
I turn my attention to the rearview mirror. “Brent.”
“Yeah, Boss?” His eyes meet mine for a second.
“I need you to look into a Rayven Bridges for me.” I give him the unusual spelling. “Find out anything and everything you can.”
“You got it. I’ll start right away.” He stops the car, and I realize we are outside of the theater in Manhattan. Opening the door, I step onto the red-carpet. Cameras flash all around, the brightness blinding me. I ignore the questions being spewed in every direction.
Aunt Katherine and Uncle Theodore greet me right inside. “Jameson!” Katherine gushes as she pulls me into an embrace.
“Jameson.” My uncle smiles and pats my back.
“Katherine, Theo, it’s good to see you both.” I pull back from my aunt. “I think I’ll go get myself a drink.”
She shoos me away. “Go ahead; we will catch up in a little while. Go mingle.”
Aunt Katherine’s event planner has decorated the theater in golds and black. Five brass candleholders sit on each tabletop with lit white candles; chandeliers hang down, casting a glow throughout the room; and topless waiters wearing masks travel around the room, serving hors d’oeuvres and champagne.
Walking to the bar, I look around at all the guests; another successful event. I notice Senator Adams with one of Magdalene’s girls, the police chief and his wife, and Mayor Austin alone right now. All of high society and New York’s finest gathered tonight to support the cause.
“Scotch on the rocks,” I tell the bartender and pull a twenty out of my wallet.
“Here you go.” The glass is passed my way a few minutes later.
“Keep the change.” I swirl the straw a couple of times before taking it out and laying it on the napkin.
I take a long swig then feel the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Turning around, I face the door and the woman who just walked through. She hands the security her ticket, though afterward she stands there, clearly uncomfortable if one can judge by the way she fidgets with her clutch.
Rayven Bridges is stunning, even more so bathed in the glowing lights. Her raven hair hangs loose in tight curls past her shoulders, and the champagne-colored dress shows every curve of her body. I set my glass down and start to stand only to realize she doesn’t fucking know who I am. I clench my fist at my side as I watch her move gracefully towards the bar. She stands a few feet from me and orders herself a drink before putting her mask on. I’m not wearing one; if I did, it could expose me as Mr. Freedman. If she was looking in my direction she would be able to see my entire face.
An overwhelming feeling comes over me. Maybe it’s the thrill of knowing who she is but she still has no idea who I am, yet we are so close in proximity. I need to see her reaction in person, so I pull my burner phone out of my pocket.
Me: You look beautiful.
Silencing the phone, I lay it on the bar and wait for the ping from her phone. I grab my glass and finish off my drink while my eyes stay glued on her. Rayven pulls her phone out of her clutch and looks at the message. She bites her bottom lip, her smile forms, and the sight makes my heart race. It’s real, genuine—it’s more than money for her. Her lips part, her eyes lift; she scans the room. She looks back down and starts typing.
“Hello, everyone!” Katherine’s voice magnifies throughout the room. Everyone quiets and pays attention to the woman who put this all together. “I want to thank you all for joining us tonight for such a great charity. Victims of sexual assault need to know they are not alone. It happens every day in society and with you being here supporting and making donations, you are making a difference. We can help victims get more rape kits tested, give women and girls safe places to go if they are scared, help them testify to put away their assailants, and bring victims together so they know it is okay for them to talk about what happened to them. Most feel like it is their fault, and we need to change the stigma surrounding what is happening.” Everyone applauds. “I want to ask my nephew, Jameson, to come up here and speak now.” She looks around the room until she sees me, and when our gazes meet, her smile is endearing.
I stand, walk to the stage, hug my aunt, and take the microphone from her. “Thank you all for being here tonight. Someone close to me was a victim of sexual assault, but she didn’t survive. She never got the justice she deserved because the men were never found. Being here tonight gives hope that change can happen.” Setting the microphone back on the stand, I walk away in a daze, anxiety rising inside of me, and sweat beads lingering on my forehead.
We walk faster.
So do they.
We run.
They chase us.
“Run, Jamie!”
Her voice echoes through my skull. Reaching the bar, I barely get the words out for another drink.
“Hey, are you okay?” Her hand lightly touches my back. It feels like small prickles of electricity shocking their way through me.
My eyes connect with gorgeous grey orbs over my shoulder. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I take a deep breath.
“Whew, good, it looked like you were about to pass out there for a minute.” I turn to face her. For a second, her body is pressed against mine. She clears her throat, looks down, and steps back.
“What’s your name?” I ask with a hint of a smile on my lips. If she only knew I was Mr. Freedman.
“Rayven Bridges.”
Reaching out, I twirl a strand of her hair around my finger. “Your hair matches your name.” I chuckle at the coincidence.
She moves my hand away. “I guess it does. And what’s your name?” Her eyes meet mine once again.
“Jameson Kincaid.”
“Well, it was nice meeting you, Jameson.” She turns to walk away. I’m not ready for her to leave.
“Wait, have a drink with me.”
Looking over her shoulder, she gives me a kind smile. Not the affectionate type of smile like Mr. Freedman’s. “I guess one drink won’t hurt.”
I order both of us another round. “Are you from New York? You don’t have the native accent like the rest of us.”
She laughs. “No, I’m actually from Iowa. You know, small-town girl living big city dreams.”
My brows knit together. “What brings you here?”
“To the ball?” I nod. “My sister.” She looks down at her tumbler. “She was so young, had her whole life ahead of her, but someone took it.”
“What happened to the person?” My gaze is steady on the side of her face; the anger that once left when I felt her touch starts to return.
She shrugs her shoulder. “He was never found, and neither was her body. All the police could ever find was her bloody panties, with no other DNA. It became a cold case after a while and the twelve-year mark just came and went, like every year.”
Gritting my teeth, I tell her, “I’m sorry. I need to go.” I storm away from her and go outside for a moment. I suck in the cool night air and pull my phone out of my pocket.
Brent answers on the second ring. “Yeah, Boss.”
“I need you to look into the case of a young girl’s kidnapping in Iowa twelve years ago. Last name would be Bridges.”
“You got it.” I hang up, put the phone back in my pocket, and pull out the burner.
I look at the text Rayven sent.
R: Are you here?
I send one back and realize I am willing to risk it all for this woman.
Me: 15 minutes. Meeting room to the right of the ballroom - and leave the lights off.
Placing the phone back in my other pocket, I walk back inside and past the ballroom, where you can hear my aunt’s voice begin the auction. I open the door to the meeting room and wait for Rayven.
The door opens, I see her start to enter, and I reach out to grab her arm. Pulling her towards me into the darkness, I push her up against the wall. Something I never do is kiss, but the wanting of our lips touching is overwhelming. Leaning in close, I smell those flowers that kept me distracted since the last time I was alone with her. My lips slam against hers, the sensation electrifying.
Her body relaxes against mine, her hands moving up my arms and into my hair. She holds me against her as our mouths move effortlessly. I dip my tongue into her parted lips and explore the taste of her. My hands squeeze her hips then graze up her sides and to her back. Unzipping her dress, I push my hands underneath the silky material to find her full tits.
I begin to massage one of her breasts; her skin feels like the softest satin under my rough hands. Rayven breaks from the kiss and leans her head against the wall. Her heavy breaths and quiet moans have my cock straining to be set free. Her hands pull at my hair rougher and rougher the more excited she gets. Pushing her tits up and out of the dress, I take her perky nipple into my mouth, sucking on her tight flesh.
“Mr. Freedman.” She moans my alias, but it doesn’t feel right. I want her screaming my real name, but I can’t let her know who I am.
I reach down, bunching her dress in my hand, and move the fabric to the side. I touch between her legs, feeling her soaked panties. Pushing them down her legs, I move back up and feel her naked cunt for the first time. An intense need throbs inside of me as I push two digits inside of her. She cries out quietly at the intrusion, and I pump faster inside of her. It’s real, raw, and exhilarating to finally have her. Not quite the way I want, but right now that doesn’t matter—I just want her. I want to feel her.
I move my mouth up to her ear and, feather-light, I whisper, “I’m a particular man.” A gasp leaves her parted lips. “Can you follow my rules?”
Her hips buck against my hand. She moans her answer, “Yes!” as her orgasm destroys her. I hold her up with one arm as she rides her wave of ecstasy. I remove my fingers from inside of her, bring them up to my mouth, and suck her desire in between my lips. She has such a sweet taste.
Freeing myself, I pull a condom out of my wallet, tear the wrapper with my teeth, and roll the latex over my erection. I lean down, grip her thighs, and pick her up so her legs can wrap around me. I line up to her entrance and begin to push inside. She’s fucking tight!
Her hands move to my shoulders and she grips my jacket tightly and leans in, biting down on my shoulder. Gritting my teeth from the feel of her, I push harder until I’m all the way inside her wet heat. I don’t give her time to adjust to my size before I’m thrusting inside of her. She cries out in pain, but soon starts to match my movements pound for pound. I want to yell out her name; I want to do a lot of shit with this woman that I wouldn’t normally do. She’s fucking dangerous and makes me want to break every fucking rule I have.
Her walls begin tightening around my cock. “I’m going to come again!” she moans, and I push in, hitting her G-spot once more. Her sounds of pleasure, the feel of her contracting, it all sends me over the edge right along with her.
I take a second to catch my breath before pulling out and zipping up my pants. I’ll dispose of the condom in the bathroom. She is still breathless and trying to get control of herself when I kiss the top of her head and walk out the door. I rush to the bathroom, throw the condom away, and fix my appearance before returning to the ball.
I order myself another drink from the bartender and wait for Rayven to return, but she doesn’t.
I stay at the ball for another hour then have Brent drive me home, where I turn on the lights in my penthouse and for some reason the quiet feels lonely. I pour myself a drink at the wet bar, sit on the couch, and pull my phone out of my pocket.
Me: You didn’t return to the ball.
R: No. I decided to come home.
Me: I never kiss.
R: But you did.
Me: I know. You do something to me, Ms. Bridges.
R: You do something to me too, Mr. Freedman. Why do you like control?
Me: Because I need it. In all aspects of my life.
R: Will I ever know who you really are?
Me: Probably not. Goodnight, Ms. Bridges.
R: Goodnight, Mr. Freedman.
I put my phone on the couch beside me, go make another drink, and let my thoughts wander to her. How good she felt, so tight and wet, her soft lips pressed against mine, and the sounds that fell from her plump lips. My cock starts twitching. Christ, she affects me badly and I’m not sure yet if that’s a good thing.