Chapter 6

Devon

The note slipped underneath the door of my dorm room as I poured over the staffed musical paper I’d been working on for hours. But I’d done nothing productive. Nothing. Because all I could think about were Judge Copeland’s lips on my neck, my stomach, my inner thighs, my… pussy. I inhaled a ragged breath and swept them away. I’d never get this damn song written if I continued on like this. Why couldn’t I just find someone my own damn age?

I stood on shaky legs and walked toward the door. I stared at it for seconds. Devon was scrawled across the vanilla parchment in a masculine script. Not wanting to bend over, I forced myself to. I snaked a hand out and snatched it as if it had fangs to bite me with or poison to kill me. Clutching it to my heaving chest, I sank down onto my twin-sized bed and opened it with shaky fingers.

I know I have no right to ask but I can’t seem to stop myself.

Will you meet me tonight at six?

It’s important.

100 West Franklin Ave

Minneapolis MN 55404

Judge

My heart threatened to gallop out of my chest when I recognized the address. I couldn’t believe it. Why on earth had he summoned me to that place? Nothing made sense anymore. Like I’d stumbled into some alternate universe where a vengeful God kept all my desires right at the end of my fingertips but still so far out of reach the small gap might as well be the size of a gorge. What had I ever done to deserve this torment? I was a good girl. Worked hard. Never did anything naughty in spite of all my illicit fantasies.

A glance at my phone told me I didn’t have much time. It was already four and if I wanted to get there by six, I’d have to hustle. Thank God I’d already showered. In thirty, I was ready. I’d put on my best skirt and a red silk blouse that I’d worn for my last recital that my mom said brought out the highlights in my hair. A dab of perfume on my wrists and décolletage and I felt ready for my date with disaster. Nothing good could come of me and Judge alone. Or maybe he wasn’t planning on us being alone.

I shoved that thought away as I waited for the bus outside the campus housing. I knew exactly which one would take me closest to the one hundred block of Franklin. Only a few minutes more and my curiosity would be assuaged. I looked out the grimy window and watched as the pedestrians, taxis, and other buses sped past me. I could see the buildings, all chrome and brick and every construction material imaginable. I wondered at the businesses inside. And the people. As they bustled around, were they brimming with anxiety like me?

Before I felt ready, my stop loomed ahead and I stood with the other passengers getting off. He hadn’t said to bring anything, so I clutched my backpack to my chest. It held my personal items and my music sheets. I always took them because bursts of inspiration that ended in my best material always seemed to come in the most inappropriate situations and places. The first time I’d been without and lost my train of thought, I’d never made that mistake again. The curse of the creative type.

After a few hundred yards on foot, I made it safely to my destination. The elegant lines and planes of the historic home beckoned to me. My favorite place in the entire state of Minnesota. Probably in the world but since I’d never been out of the country, I couldn’t definitively make that call. The setting sun lit the architecture with shadows and light, depth, and texture. I could write a song about it. But then again… I’d already done that. An award winner. The entire reason I’d made it into Diamond on a full ride now stared me square in the face. But Judge couldn’t know that. The only people who knew were me, my parents, and the judges of the singing competition that I’d won with my song about the Semple Mansion.

“Honey, I’m home.” That tortured whisper lifted my eyebrows clear to my hairline. But a girl’s fantasies could never be taken away. My leaden feet strode toward the front door. I stopped short, unsure of what to do. Should I knock? Just walk in? The mansion was only available for rentals and never open to the public. The backpack in my arms felt heavy, along with my aching heart, as I knew I was about to be presented with the only other thing I could never have along with this dazzling home right in front of me.

Just as I’d raised my hand to knock, the front door creaked open and a friendly woman in a uniform appeared to greet me. “Hello, welcome to Semple Mansion. Miss Williams, I presume? He’s waiting in the Grand Palladian for you. Follow me, dear.”

I didn’t know what to say, although my first reaction was to decline. Turn on my heel and flee the scene before I got in so deep the only choice was death by drowning in a turbulent sea of emotion. But I didn’t. Somehow, my heavy feet moved of their own accord and followed the woman until she left me in front of a grand set of heavy double doors. I strained to see inside the beveled glass but couldn’t make anything out in the low light of the crystal chandeliers.

“I’ll be leaving for the night, miss. Mr. Copeland will lock up when you’re done. Have a wonderful evening.”

I reached out with a shaky hand as the clopping of her serviceable shoes faded into the background. So overcome with feelings I couldn’t control, I didn’t even notice or enjoy the grandeur of the foyer and winding staircase, like something out of a Margaret Mitchell novel. Or a song. A love song. One where the singer poured their heart out on the wings of unrequited love. Been there, done that. After a few strained moments, I worked up the courage to turn the knob and step inside the ballroom.

The sight inside literally stole my breath. The shiny hardwood floor gleamed under the illumination of the sparkling crystal high above. The light drew my eyes and that’s when I noticed the domed ceiling complete with hand-painted gold filigree. The windows offered a view to the outside courtyard, where foliage in brilliant colors graced the exterior of the grand estate. And along the wall, a brilliant stained glass window tucked behind two pillars. And right in front of it, a table for two set with fine china and crystal stemware.

Where was he? My eyes strained to find him but failed. Why would he invite me to the Semple Mansion and then disappear?

“Devon?”

I turned at the sound of his deep voice and snapped my head up. Then I saw him. Judge stood in front of one of the windows. The glow of the sun dipping below the horizon backlit him in such a way that he appeared even larger and more imposing than his six plus feet stature. He took a tentative step toward me.

“Judge? Is that you?” I put my hand over my eyes to shade them but mainly to have something to do with the shaking appendage.

“I’m glad you’re here, Devon. I was afraid you might not come.”

He sounded as if that would be the worst thing ever. My mind drifted to the implications if that were true.

“I…”

“I’d prefer if you’d stay and have dinner with me. I really wanted to make it up to you for missing your graduation celebration. Your dad might have mentioned how much you love this place. I’m connected with the owner, and I pulled a few strings. Do you like it?”

Those elegant hands swept the room with a flourish, drawing my attention to them and imagining them sweeping over the planes of my body.

“It’s beautiful. I’ve never been in this room because it’s always closed off unless there’s a wedding. I’ve only been here once, and it wasn’t for a wedding.”

Did my voice sound shaky? I hoped not. I didn’t want him to realize the effect he had on me. Even though it probably was so obvious a blind mute could figure it out.

“I really want you to stay, although if you feel uncomfortable, I’ll respect your wishes.”

I stared at him, wanting this man so much I ached in places I never even knew were capable of that depth of feeling. But I also wanted to please him. I just wanted him. Every last little drop that could be squeezed out.

“You look alarmed. Maybe I should have called first, but I so wanted to surprise you.”

“I am,” I admitted on a whisper. “Surprised.” For a moment, I wondered if he’d even heard me. That British accent rolled over me, taking all my trepidation with it. He could read the names out of the phone book and it would sound decadent. Tempting.

“Is it that hard to believe that I want to do something nice for you? I know we’ve been out of touch for a long time. Too long, really. I want to make it up to you. In spite of the distance, there hasn’t been a day that I haven’t thought about you. Wished you well.”

I shook my head against the new wave of aching that circled my heart, squeezing it in a vice grip so tight I thought it might never release. He’d thought about me every day? Well, I’d see his every day and raise him every damn minute. “Me, too. You’ve always been kind and generous, especially when I was in junior high and struggling with my English homework. But making up your absence at my high school graduation is really unnecessary.”

“I know it’s not required. But I want to. I just want to make you happy and see you smile.”

As he spoke, he walked closer, and it felt as if all the air had been vacuumed from the room. I struggled for my next inhale.

Please don’t come any closer. Please don’t make my want any stronger. If you do, I won’t survive it.

He stopped a few feet in front of me as if heeding my silent plea. But not far enough away that I couldn’t smell the masculine scent of his cologne as it consumed me.

“You do?”

“Yes.”

How could I refuse? He speared me with his dark, soulful gaze like he was… worried about what I’d say. “Okay,” I whispered, feeling lightheaded and nauseous.

He smiled, that confident and charming smile that had haunted my dreams each and every night since the first time I’d seen him.

But as the seconds ticked by, and we stared into the depths of each other’s eyes, I felt the air shift around us. It got hotter, thicker, and I felt as if the beautiful hardwood might crack wide open and suck me down into an endless abyss of abject yearning. A craving I could never feed. It would do nothing but remain hungry and shallow until the day I died.

And I projected the pain.

“How are your classes going?” I asked, my tone low and laced with the depth of my emotion.

He didn’t speak for a long while, just watched me, these differing and conflicting expressions at war in the depths of his eyes. Kindness won the battle. But oh, how I rooted for passion. “Really good. I’m very grateful for my TA, Jason.”

I nodded and darted out my tongue to moisten my dry lips. It didn’t go unnoticed how Judge watched me. Stared really. In that moment, I didn’t know what to do. What to say. Passing seconds seemed suspended in time. Everything stood still inside the opulence of the Semple.

“You’ve always been so good with your students.” God, my voice was so knotted, my arousal swinging inside of me until I felt as if a sex-obsessed alien had taken up residence where my pounding heart had once been.

“Education is my life. Would you like to come and sit? I have appetizers.” He shifted on his feet, swaying a few millimeters. To most, it wouldn’t be perceptible but I noticed his every movement, every expression. Every nuance that made up Judge Copeland would be forever burned on my brain for all eternity. And now we’d be eating a meal together. Alone. Like a date. Like my childhood fantasy come to life in the middle of the Semple Mansion. A place I adored with the man I adored.

He turned his back on me then to walk to the table, and I lost my chance to look in the place I’d most wanted to. For some reason, I’d wanted to allow my hungry gaze to drift lower. To check him for some sign of arousal like the one coursing through me. But he’d taken that opportunity away from me, and I mourned the loss.

“I’m glad we have this evening to catch up. It was nice that day at Starbucks but I felt like we couldn’t get to everything. I want to know more. I want to know everything.”

Everything? That was something I didn’t have to give him. My illicit thoughts and fantasies belonged only to me. Never to be shared or revealed. Especially not to him.

I looked into his eyes, his accent moving over me, making my skin tighten and my pussy muscles clench in need. Wetness flooded my panties as if he’d just said something arousing instead of something innocuous. I shifted, thankful he couldn’t see me in this moment and witness my shame.

“I’m not sure there is much else. Between school and music, I don’t have time for much else.”

He sank into the velvet seat cushion of the wrought iron chair, and I sat across from him. “I don’t believe that.”

“Why?” God, was that my voice, sounding so aroused as my pussy throbbed and screamed for attention? And somehow, I knew it would only accept ministrations from him.

“Because you’re fascinating.”

A wave of dizziness wafted over me, making me glad I’d sat down before I fell down into a puddle of yearning at this loafer clad feet. The light spattering of chest hair that I loved so much poked out of the open collar of his plaid button-down. I itched to reach over the flatware and touch it. “Me?”

He took a second to answer. “Yes, you,” he said, his tone so thick I could pick up a butter knife off the elegant table and slice it.

This couldn’t be happening. I struggled to pull myself from this vivid dream. To wake up. I had to wake up.

The only thing that could make this moment of us sharing so deeply of ourselves would be a kiss. If Judge tilted forward and leaned in those extra few inches to connect our bodies in that intimate way, I’d let him. Even though it was wrong. I’d wanted it for so long it had become part of the fiber of my being. He owned my soul. I wanted to feel his lips on mine, just this once. I wanted his essence to intertwine with mine, making us one.

He leaned in another inch, and I found myself doing the same. For a second, we breathed the same air. His lithe body so imposing, so masculine, he seemed to take up the space in the entire room. I couldn’t even see the ballroom behind him. There was only Judge Copeland. And lust. Throbbing, aching, tormenting lust so deep and hard it had taken on a life of its own. I felt like the princess in my fairytale. All I needed was a glass slipper. And a pumpkin. A fairy godmother to wave her magic wand over my head and give me more. Because I wanted it all.

I felt reality slam into me, and as I stayed there, suspended, waiting. Watching. I was aware of Judge still staring at me. He gazed at me with heavy-lidded eyes, his focus trained on my mouth. His broad, defined chest rising and falling just as hard as mine, our hearts beating together as I made a decision.

I surrendered.

Judge leaned in and pressed his full lips to mine. Electricity so violent it hurt zipped through my body as I pressed forward. Wanting more. Always, always wanting. I hadn’t imagined this could ever happen. Judge wanted to kiss me, too. And he’d allowed himself to fall with me into that dark abyss of forbidden emotion. We were heading to the dark side together, holding each other’s hands in a death grip.