Hale

 

This is it. My last lesson with Brielle. All morning, I fought for perspective and failed. After tonight’s festivities, I’m going to tell her that she’s ready. That she’s learned all I can teach her.

I don’t know how she’ll take the news. Me? I’m so confused and frustrated that I feel like fucking punching something at the thought of not seeing her again after this.

I’m dressed in a suit and tie, and told her to be waiting at the corner of Lakeshore and Grand. I glance at my watch and see that I’m right on time. Watching from the dark-tinted window of the limousine, I spot her. She glances around and then checks her phone. She’s wearing the red wool coat belted snugly and holds a small jeweled clutch. The Chicago winter makes it necessary, but I can’t wait to peel the coat from her body and see what’s underneath it. See if she knew to follow my subtle instruction.

At my direction, the driver pulls to a stop at the corner beside her, and Brielle’s eyes light up. I step out and greet her, pulling her body to mine and kissing her deeply. She doesn’t hesitate; her mouth opens against me, her tongue making little circles with mine. It’s fucking heaven. She smells lightly of perfume and soap, and her hair is down, in long curls that flutter in the wind.

“Let’s get you warmed up,” I whisper near her ear.

She nods and lets me take her hand to help her into the waiting limo, which is white as I requested. I may not be a noble knight on a white horse, but she deserves one, and this is the best I can do.

“Wow. A limo? What’s on the agenda tonight?” Her eyes sparkle as she takes it all in, sliding across the leather seat with a happy smile. And suddenly all the trouble I’ve gone through planning tonight is immediately worth it.

“You’ll see,” I say.

She doesn’t know it yet, but I’m going to push her further than I ever have before. My cock twitches at the thought. I will prove to us both that this isn’t some fucking fairy tale. I have needs she can’t possibly satisfy, and she deserves a tenderness that I can’t possibly provide.

Everything will be settled after tonight. And I will send her off, ready to use all her techniques to win over the one she wants, the man who is a safe choice for her.

Plucking the waiting bottle of champagne from its bucket of ice, I free the cork. Brielle smiles at the popping sound. I pour us each a glass in the tall flutes, and we clink glasses.

“Cheers. To Kirby,” I say coolly.

Her face falls, her eyebrows pinching together. “I thought you said no names.”

“Seems kind of pointless when I already know it, doesn’t it, Brielle?”

She chews on her lower lip and shrugs. “I guess so.”

“To Kirby,” I repeat, bringing my glass to hers again. “One lucky son of a bitch.”

This gets a smile from her, and we both sip our champagne.

“So your time with him went well today?” I ask, trying to temper my curiosity.

Her gaze wanders out the window, and she takes another drink before answering. “Of course.”

As we sip our champagne in silence, I wish I could pick up on what she’s thinking. I need to hold it together. I can sense myself slipping, and Brielle is watching me with a curious stare.

Fucking hell.

When did my life get so goddamned complicated? This whole venture was supposed to be about easy fun, exploring women’s sexual fantasies, and a release for my dominant side. Instead it’s become a game I don’t think I can win. One that’s going to leave me old and alone with nothing to show for my efforts, just like Nana fears.

I tip back my head, downing the rest of my champagne, and set down my glass. It’s game time.

• • •

 

When we arrive at the hotel suite I’ve booked for the night, Brielle walks from room to room, checking out the place. It’s opulent, almost too much for our uses tonight. I plan on fucking her as many times and in as many places as possible, and still, I know we won’t even make it into half the rooms.

When she returns to the living room, where I’m waiting for her beside a cart of drinks, I smile warmly at her. “Take off your coat. Stay a while.”

Her answering smile lights up her face. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, sir?”

“Fuck yes, I would.”

She slowly releases the belt, letting me catch a glimpse of the dip in her smooth belly, the white lace at the top of her panties.

My erection presses awkwardly against the front of my slacks. But fuck it, she knows what she does to me by now. No need to fake a sense of control I don’t possess.

I wait for her to drop the coat from her shoulders, but she stops, her eyes lifting to mine. “Are we going out? Or what’s the plan?”

I force a breath into my lungs, trying to get myself to calm the fuck down. We have all night. No need to pounce on her like the tasty treat she is within two minutes of entering the hotel suite. “We’re staying here tonight.”

“All night?” she asks, her nose scrunching up in a way that looks damn cute on her.

We both know that’s a huge fucking step. We’ve never spent the night together. “Yes. Is that okay, Brielle?”

Her gaze slips away from mine, noting the cart of drinks with various bottles and mixers along with a bucket of ice, over to the dining table where fussy finger foods and hors d’oeuvres and desserts are artfully arranged, and then back to the hallway that leads to the master bedroom. Her smile falters, the corners of her mouth twitching.

This is too real, too intimate, and she knows it. Her questioning blue eyes see everything. All my motivations are stripped bare; I don’t need to say a word. She was expecting something crazy, but all she’s getting is me. I want to pretend she’s mine for one last night before I have to release her.

I cross the room and stand directly in front of her, pushing my hand inside her coat to place it firmly on her waist and drag her close.

“It’s just us tonight,” I whisper, fighting the urge to kiss her mouth.

“Where are the ropes? The whips? The chains?”

“You want ropes?” I ask, my tone hollow. Maybe I can’t give her what she needs after all.

“I don’t understand,” she says softly.

“BDSM isn’t always about the ropes and implements, Brielle. Sure, I like the toys in my bag, and I like them even better when I’m using them to tease and pleasure you, but at the very core of it, it’s about the connection between two people.”

She nods slightly. My words make sense, at the surface, at least. But why we’re here, sharing an encounter that will deepen our connection when she’s not even mine…yeah, that’s the million-dollar question.

I’ve never in my life spent money like this on a date with a client. One hundred dollars for the lingerie, six hundred for the coat that fits her beautifully and brings out the rose color in her cheeks, a couple hundred for the limo, and a thousand dollars for the posh hotel suite. She’s worth all this and more.

The money doesn’t matter. I simply wanted our last night together to be perfect, one that I could remember for years to come. Because something tells me that my head and my heart won’t be the same after this.

“Would you like a drink? Something to eat?” I ask, my voice low. All I want is her, but I suppose I should be polite and tend to her needs first.

She nods. “Yes, thank you.”

Slipping my hand from her waist, I belt her jacket again, realizing she’ll probably get cold wearing nothing but the tiny panties and bra.

“Come sit. I’m going to serve you tonight.”

Her eyes flash on mine while her mouth curves into a surprised smirk. “What’s gotten into you?”

I shrug. The truth is, I wish I fucking knew. “A real man takes care of his lady’s needs before his own. Don’t forget, everything is a lesson. Once I turn you loose back into the dating world, I want you to remember all of this, and not to settle for something less than you deserve.”

She nods, then takes a seat in one of the oversized upholstered chairs at the edge of the dining room, slipping off her heels and curling her legs under her.

“Besides, my mother always used to say ‘manners make the man.’”

“That’s nice,” she says.

“The fifteen-year-old me didn’t think so. I didn’t see why manners were something I had to think about when my friends didn’t care, and the girls in school seemed to go for the guys who treated them like they were disposable.”

Brielle’s quiet, but I can tell she’s hanging on my every word. I rarely talk about my past, and I’ve never shared with her something about my mother.

“When I questioned her, my mother told me that acting like a gentleman would make smart, beautiful women notice me and important men want to give me a job.”

“And was she right?” Brielle asks, a smile creeping into her voice.

“I should say so.” I toss a wink at her over my shoulder.

I can’t resist mixing her the same cocktail she ordered that first night. The timid set of her shoulders and flushed cheeks had my cock hardening even then. She sat at the bar alone, quietly sipping this very drink as she waited for me to change her entire world.

I’m playing nice right now, but the sinking feeling in my gut reminds me that tonight is a one-time deal. I’m supposed to be showing her every wicked thing in my playbook, reaffirming her decision that the man she really wants isn’t me. We’ll see if I can pull that off. Because, hell, I’m fucking terrified I’d change my entire life if she asked me to.

Focusing on my game face, I hand her a crystal tumbler filled with peach liqueur, ice, and fizzy club soda. She brings her lips to the glass and smiles when she tastes it.

“You remembered.”

“Of course. It’s my job to remember my clients’ likes and dislikes.”

Her smile fades at the word client. I sense we both know that she’s so much more to me. All the effort I’ve put into tonight should prove that.

After we’ve polished off our second round of drinks and our plates are empty, the mood grows heavy around us.

Brielle’s gaze floats over to where my black bag is still sitting beside the door.

I raise one eyebrow at the slow smile that blooms on her lips. “You seem eager.”

“You said no ropes, whips, or chains, so why should I be anything other than excited?”

“Just because I’m not going to tie you up and flog you tonight doesn’t mean you won’t be at my mercy.”

My tongue slipped and said tonight, but what I really meant was ever. This is it, and I need to remember that.

Brielle looks contemplative, and I wonder when she’s going to grace me with the thoughts lurking in her mind. It only takes a few more sips from her cocktail. “What’s the end game here?”

“The end game?” Hell, now I’m really curious.

She swirls the drink in her glass. “I’m just curious. It’s obvious you have a well-paying job. You wear suits to work and can afford places like this,” she gestures to the posh hotel suite, “and I know you’re not looking to find a companion. So why do it?”

“We covered this before, Brielle. I like instructing. I like taking a woman where she’s never dared to go before. I like being the one to open her eyes to something more.”

She chews on her lip, unsatisfied with my response. “Do you think you’ll ever give it up?”

Her questions have gotten too personal. I could put a stop to this right now with one barked command, but I won’t. She wants to poke around in my head, but I doubt she’ll like what she finds. “Not planning on it.”

“So even if you found the perfect sub, someone you were compatible with inside and outside the bedroom, you wouldn’t stop seeing clients?”

That would take a huge leap of faith on my part, and trust is something I have a hard time with, given my past. The wounds are still fresh. Raw. I can’t bare myself that completely with her, not while she’s still hung up on Kirby.

Rising to my feet, I head to the door to retrieve the bag. “Go into the bedroom, take off your coat, and wait for me.”

Wordlessly, she obeys, her soft footfalls on the carpet fading down the hall.

I grab a few ice cubes from the bar before heading that way myself. When I step into the bedroom, she’s standing near the dresser in the large room, running her fingers along the crystal vase that rests there. The curve of her ass in the G-string has my cock swelling.

I stand behind her and lower my mouth to her ear. “Turn around and let me see you.”

She turns slowly, letting me appreciate the full effect of her curves filling out the delicate lingerie.

Jesus. Fuck. I slip one of the ice cubes into her mouth. “Suck.”

Her eyes widen and zero in on mine. I love it how my simplest command surprises her. Her lips close around the ice, and her eyes flutter closed. With the other ice cube, I circle her belly button, and her stomach jumps in surprise.

“You’re mine tonight. My plaything. To do with what I wish. Do you understand?”

She nods slowly.

“Answer me, pet.”

“Yes, sir.”

Her skin breaks out in chill bumps as I move the ice over to her hip bone, down toward her panties. She sucks in a breath and holds it. I drop to my knees, my mouth following the path of dissolving ice, my tongue licking away the sting of cold.

I tease her with my mouth over the front of her panties until she’s writhing to get closer. It’s not clear which of us I’m teasing, though, because I want nothing more than to taste her sweet pussy.

We’re still standing in front of the mirror, and I turn her to face it. Her chest is flushed, and her eyes are clouded with arousal. If tonight is really meant to be our last lesson, the sentimental side of me that so rarely comes out needs to make sure she’s ready.

“I want you to look at yourself and tell me what you see,” I whisper near her ear, letting my lips brush her skin.

She fidgets, placing her hands over her belly as if inspecting herself in the mirror is too invasive despite all the things we’ve shared.

After a moment, her eyes lift to mine and she smiles. “I see a handsome man who makes me feel desirable.”

Shaking my head, I correct her. “No, tell me what you see when you look at you.”

A quiet stillness settles around us as she studies herself in the mirror. Her hair is long and glossy, her breasts are small but pert, and the juncture between her thighs is covered in white lace, but my hope is that she knows her worth beyond those physical traits.

“I don’t know how to do this. I’m sorry.” With a defeated tone, she dips her head, tucking her chin toward her chest.

Fuck. I didn’t mean to make her feel awkward and self-conscious. But women don’t come with a manual, and so sometimes even I stumble.

“Can I tell you what I see?”

Meeting my reflection in the mirror, she nods.

“I see a beautiful, smart woman who had the courage to pursue her goals, who has shown strength in each act of submission.” My knuckles trace her sides, ghosting over her ribs. “I see someone fierce and loyal and brave. Someone who is willing to sacrifice her comfort zone in the search for love. Someone who’s giving and kind in the bedroom.” My lips linger at the side of her neck. “You’re perfection, peach.” In every way.

Tears glitter in her eyes, and she chews on her lip as she blinks them away. I’m not sure why, but I wanted her to know how I feel about her. Even if I could take it back, I wouldn’t.

Needing to change the mood, I release her. “Lie down on the bed.”

She nods and quickly heads to the large bed, depositing herself on one side of it.

I remove the candle from inside my bag and light it on the dresser. It casts a subtle glow into the room, giving everything a dreamy, romantic feel. The rich, warm fragrance fills the air. This candle, which was meant to set the scene and relax her, has become so much more. It’s now a scent I’ll always associate just with Brielle.

Slowly and methodically, I remove her bra and panties. I gaze down at her, wanting to commit to memory her flawless skin, the rise and fall of her chest, the way her nipples pebble in anticipation of my mouth.

Her eyes are on mine. “How do you want me?”

I shake my head. “Just like this.” I pull my shirt off over my head and let my pants and boxers fall to the floor before joining her on the bed again. Moving my body over hers, I kiss her deeply, savoring each lick of her tongue like I’m a dying man enjoying his last meal.

When she reaches down and takes me in her hand, I don’t stop her. Her fist curls around me, and I grunt.

“Inside me, please,” she breathes against my mouth.

When I reach between us and feel that she’s soaked, I align myself with her. “Be still, okay?”

She nods her consent.

I lift her legs so her pelvis is tilted up and place her ankles on my shoulders. “I want you to feel me tomorrow.”

Brielle, ever trusting, blinks up at me.

“Eyes down here, pretty girl. Watch.” With my thumb, I part her folds and push the head of my cock just inside. Her pussy is squeezing me already, and I harden even more. I make sure her eyes are still on the action and when I see that they are, I push forward again. Two more inches of me slip inside. Fuck.

She whimpers, her voice throaty and full of need. “More, Hale. Harder,” she begs.

She wants me to slam home and fuck her until she comes. But tonight is about control.

“Patience,” I growl, pushing inside her warmth until I’m halfway buried.

Sharp fingernails dig into my ass cheeks, and she throws her head back against the pillow.

“Eyes, sweetheart,” I remind her. “Keep them on my cock. I want you to watch how I fuck you.” The truth is I want to ruin her for all other men. I want her to understand my cock is the only one that can make her feel this way.

She opens her eyes and her gaze drifts from mine, down my chest and abs to settle on my throbbing erection. Good girl.

Thrusting forward, I move slowly, allowing her body to stretch to accommodate me. I give her every last inch of me, and once I’m buried within the snug heat of her, I hiss out a breath.

We move together, our bodies growing slick with sweat, my hands digging into her hips as I pull her closer. Her inner muscles tighten and tremble, and I lean down near her ear, encouraging her to let go, slowing my movements to let her ride out the wave of pleasure her orgasm provides.

I can’t hold back any longer. I thrust hard, overcome with pleasure at the way her tight body squeezes mine. My release hits me hard and fast, obliterating all my control. I tug Brielle close, holding her tightly as our heartbeats slam together.

Eventually, I rise from the bed, my body missing her warmth beside me. I go to the bathroom to get her a warm cloth, and when I return, I find her curled up in the center of the bed, her cheeks damp with tears.

“Brielle?” My chest tightens and a feeling of dread washes over me. I join her on the bed and lift her onto my lap. “Tell me why you’re crying,” I whisper near her temple. I want to soothe her fears, make everything better, but I know I can’t.

“This was never supposed to happen,” she sobs. “You warned me, but it’s just so overwhelming.”

I pull her close, planting a kiss on her forehead. “I know, pet, I know. It will pass. I told you, it’s just the rush of endorphins wreaking havoc on your system.” I hate myself for saying these words. I’m falling in love with her, and I want all of these emotions overwhelming her to be just for me. But she nods, accepting my explanation.

I hold her while she cries and finally, once she’s quiet, we lay in the huge hotel bed, curled together as we watch an old black-and-white movie.

“Are you going to see Kirby tomorrow?” I whisper. I’m not sure why, but the curiosity is killing me.

“No. I’m working tomorrow.”

I nod, feeling relief and shame mix together. Even if she’s not seeing him tomorrow, I know that soon she’s going to win him over, and it’s a deeply disturbing thought.

Our last night together feels heavy with meaning. If these are the last of my minutes with her, I’m happy to spend them listening to her sleepy sounds and enjoying the warmth of her body curled against mine.

• • •

 

In the morning, my sense of purpose is renewed. I dress while Brielle is still asleep and slip out of the hotel room. It’s better than having to hear her say good-bye. Last night I took things that weren’t mine to take, we grew closer than we should have, and I don’t want to see the look of regret that’s probably in her eyes this morning. Brielle and I are two different people. I no longer possess that same hopeful optimism that love conquers all.

When I met Tara, she become my entire world. I fell hard and fast, and never doubted for a second that she’d be at my side when we were both old and gray. And for years, things were great.

Wanting to make her my wife, I bought her the best ring money could buy. She deserved it after watching me scrape my way through law school, and living in cheap student housing with me. As we lay curled together at night on our lumpy mattress, I used to whisper to her how I’d give her the world if I could. All my love, promises, and sacrifice weren’t enough for her, though, because one day I came home early and found her fucking my best friend, Troy. He was a good friend, and while it hurt to know he betrayed me, it was her unfaithfulness that destroyed me. I’d been ready to devote my life to her.

After that, Reece proved what a good friend he is by cutting Troy from his life completely. He felt the betrayal almost as deeply as I did. That’s when I began exploring the BDSM lifestyle Reece is so fond of, and felt immediately at home. Control. Discipline. Never getting too close. It was the only type of relationship I saw myself having with a woman. The exchange of power was exactly what I craved.

After Tara left me for another man, I became the other man so I never had to feel that kind of hurt again, so that I could never be left again. I don’t involve my heart, and I won’t ever give myself away completely in these interactions. That’s why I never tell them my name. Because I won’t exist when we’re done.

It’s this mindset that I try to summon as I head off to meet with Chrissy. I push the thoughts of Brielle that plague me as far away as possible. Today is about Chrissy and the future she’s always dreamed of.

On my way out to the suburbs, I sent a text to Brielle.

 

Hale: Peach, something has come up. I’m sorry for the change in plans, but last night’s session will be our last.

 

Her response is simple.

 

Brielle: Okay.

 

I’m not sure what I was expecting. An argument? Her demanding an explanation? Suddenly I wish I had told her in person so I could see her face, watch her expression change. Would it be relief, indifference, or disappointment I saw reflected in her pretty features? Not knowing is driving me insane.

When I arrive at the address Chrissy sent me, I step out of the car to greet her. She’s standing in the driveway, surveying her surroundings. When she spins to face me, I hiss out a breath. Holy shit.

“Chrissy?” I reach for her. “What the fuck happened?” Lifting her chin with two fingers, I force her eyes to meet mine.

She squeezes her eyes closed and whimpers.

There are fingertip bruises around her throat and a dark mark under one eye that her makeup doesn’t cover. Her lower lip is swollen and red with bite marks.

“Chrissy? Answer me.”

“Don’t,” she pleads with me. She knows I won’t let this drop until the motherfucker who got rough with her pays for his harsh treatment.

I press closer, my thumbs stroking her cheeks as I hold her face near mine. “Goddamn it. Who did this?”

She shakes her head. “It was nothing I didn’t ask for. Come on, the real estate agent’s here. Let’s go inside.”

Her words send me into a frenzy. She asked for this shit?

“Please, Hale,” she begs.

Fuck.

Today is supposed to be a happy day, so I take Chrissy’s hand and turn toward the little bungalow I’m helping her buy, but a loud gasp startles us both.

Brielle.

She’s standing several feet away, watching me interact with Chrissy. Wearing her red coat, she looks so beautiful and fragile, I want to weep. Her eyes have welled with tears, which she works to blink away.

I want to go to her, want to tell her it’s not what it looks like, but the cliché of a lie dies on my lips.

Brielle’s watchful eyes don’t miss a thing. Not the bruises decorating Chrissy’s neck, or the way she has a death grip on my hand. Deep hurt and betrayal is written all over Brielle’s face.

Sensing the tense standoff happening between me and Brielle, Chrissy shifts beside me. “Is everything okay?”

“Fine,” I lie.

Brielle sucks in a deep breath and straightens her shoulders. I know she’s hurt, but pretending she’s okay. She’s pretending we didn’t just fuck each other’s brains out last night, that we don’t have a connection neither of us can explain.

“Are you guys ready to see the house? I think you’re going to love it,” she manages, her voice lifting with a slight tremor.

Goddamn it.

I’m itching to take her into my arms and hold her, quiet all her fears, tell her everything, expose myself, and beg for her forgiveness. Instead I merely stand here. I’m not about to expose Brielle as one of my clients. We both signed that nondisclosure agreement, and I took that seriously. It could affect her professional reputation if word got out; not that Chrissy would say anything, but still, I wouldn’t put her at risk.

It takes Brielle several tries to get the lockbox open, her hands are shaking that badly.

When I reach for her, she tugs her hand away as if I’m poison. Maybe I am.

“I’ve got it,” she barks, then realizes her mistake and puts on a smile for Chrissy. “See? We’re in.” She pushes open the front door and motions us inside out of the cold.

The house is a two-bedroom, two-bath fifties-style bungalow, as is common in this area. The hardwood floors creak when we walk from room to room, exploring. The bathrooms need updating, but the kitchen was recently renovated, and the walls and carpets are all fresh and neutral.

Chrissy has done a good job. She’s been saving for three years to buy a place of her own, move out of that rundown shoebox she calls an apartment. When I told her I’d help her with the down payment, it sped up her timeline significantly.

Chrissy stops to face me in the living room, where a quaint stone fireplace sits under a rustic wood mantel. Brielle is never out of sight, and I can feel her presence as if she’s cast a shadow over me.

“What do you think?” Chrissy asks.

“I think it’s great. More important, what do you think?” She’ll be the one with her name on the thirty-year mortgage, not me.

“I love it. I feel like it’s already home. Fires burning right there,” she points to the fireplace, “and a little garden in the backyard…” Her voice trails off and her eyes glisten.

“Merry Christmas,” I whisper to her, and she wraps her arms around me, squeezing my waist.

She looks into my eyes and wipes at her own. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

I force a smile, painfully aware that Brielle is watching this entire exchange.

Before I can process what’s happened, I’m standing outside on the sidewalk, watching Brielle get into her car and speed away.

Goddamn it. I’ve never felt so out of control.

It’s time to start taking on clients again. Stop this bullshit fantasy from playing out any further.