Break Me (5 page)

CHAPTER SEVEN

He needed a cold shower. He needed a very cold shower, one icy enough to assuage his guilt over how he
’d treated Zoey, and frigid enough to drive the naked need out of his system. He kept thinking of her, his mind wandering over how her skin tasted, or the feel of her hair as it slipped through his fingers, or even the scent of her as her need heightened. His cock hardened every time his mind wandered, even as tired as he was. He needed all of it washed away.

He made a graceless yipping sound as he stepped into the water, pressing himself to the back of the shower stall for a moment before straightening his spine and stepping forward to let the practically frozen water slap into his skin.

It did nothing to cool him. He was a little surprised that it didn’t turn into steam as soon as it touched him. He endured it for a full minute, his balls working hard to crawl back into his abdomen to escape the insane cold, and then he gave up, turning the water to his normal burning hot temperature. His teeth were chattering already, but his hands still felt the wetness of her sweet pussy as he’d pressed his fingers into her.

That was all it took. Rock hard again, his dick jutting out from his hips, eager and wishing she were here with him. He could bend her over and fuck her from behind, or press her up into the stall of the shower, let her cling to him as he drove up into her.

His hand wrapped around his cock and fell into a slow, easy rhythm. One of his girlfriends had watched him jerk himself off once, and had been quietly shocked at how slowly he moved under her eyes. She told him that every other guy she’d met stroked himself like there was a prize for first place, and strangling their penis would get them the gold medal. He’d laughed about it then, but he’d noticed it later. He could slam away at a woman with the best of them, if that was what the lady on the receiving end wanted, but when he was taking some quiet alone time—he like precision. Care. Deliberate, steady movements.

His knees were weak with wanting Zoey. She’d sucked him off so well yesterday morning, so fast and thorough, her sweet mouth lapping at him as he’d held back, letting her lead him home. He’d meant to do right by her last night, but he’d let himself get flustered. He’d been all right when he heard about Cindy, all in all, but seeing the cops there—needing to get Luke to let him through the barricade—that was when his control had shattered. He’d thought he’d regained it. He’d been wrong. It was fair for him to pay the price.

He let his knees drop him down until he was resting on the shower seat, the spray on his throat and shoulders. His fist tightened on his cock, as hard and vicious as he could stand, the water abrading away some of the moisture that would normally serve him as lube. He slipped just one finger into his ass—he could relax that much without needing lube at all—and closed his eyes. Just this once. Just this one time, he would imagine that she was walking into the room right now, pulling the stall door open, and sliding in without a word. She was naked, too—no, wearing a tank top, just one dark green cotton tank top, nothing else. The water would soak it through in seconds, leaving it clinging to her breasts, the peaks of her nipples achingly hard as she lowered herself down over his erection, wrapping him in her heated body. She’d arch as she fucked him, taking him all the way down into her as the spray soaked her hair, her back, spilling in rivulets down her torso. “Mmm, yes,” she'd whisper, and grind down a little harder, a little faster. She’d start to whimper as she thrust down, her body finding the spots that made her wild, and she’d scream as she came, pounding down onto him as her body convulsed around him—but that wasn’t enough for her. He could feel her body begging her to collapse into boneless release around him, but his princess wanted more, deserved more, and she would keep her body slamming down over him, grinding her clit over his pubic bone over and over until she found an even higher pinnacle. And then her eyes would fly open as she gasped, her pussy clenching iron tight around him, squeezing him, milking him, tipping him over the edge because she was too tight, to overwhelmed to even cry out.

He spurted into the shower, biting sharply at his lip to choke off his own desperate, needy cries, and felt no release. Physical, sure, his balls ached a little less than they had when he was in his office with his cock semi-hard and demanding all of his attention, but mentally? Emotionally? He felt no better.

He wasn’t enough of an idiot to call this hungry desire love. Love was something that built up over time, that was made out of shared experience and shared goals, not just a shared desire for spanking. But there was also no denying that she fit against him particularly well. He loved how bratty she got in the bedroom. So many of the subs he’d played with were into the role so very much that they had difficulty even following the scripts he gave them to voice their desires within the scenes they played out. It was fun sometimes, but sometimes he wanted someone who gave as good as they got, who would fight him for control, or who would even win now and then.

It wasn’t love, but he had a funny idea that, given time and the right environment, it could become love. But he wasn’t sure he could give her either one, no matter how much he wanted to, no matter how much she deserved it.

He washed the sweat from his body and got ready for the board meeting.

***

Zoey barely made it out of the building before the tears started. She’d tossed the straps of her duffle over one shoulder, and carried her laptop across her chest. She’d planned on getting a cab as soon as she got out of the building, but the tears that were streaming down her cheeks were too humiliating. She could stomach the subway in tears; there was no way she was getting into a cab looking like the jilted girlfriend who’d just been kicked out on the rich side of town. Besides,
she’d kicked herself out, dammit. And with good reason.

She hadn’t even taken the coffee that Claire had left out for her. That had been a strategic error, really. Sophia made amazing coffee. But it had been left out in a (gorgeous, expensive, beautiful) stainless steel travel mug, and even though Alex would probably never realize it was gone, she’d feel compelled to return it, and she did not want to do that. She didn’t want to go back. She’d come up with some sort of excuse for Claire’s party, offer to take the girl out to lunch or—something. Make her lunch, more likely. In her pathetic excuse for a galley kitchen.

The sorrow and the shame threatened to overwhelm her, almost made her double over in the street. Her stomach was empty, but it twisted and curled and threatened to make her ill right there.

Cindy Walden was dead. Cindy Walden was dead, and whether it was because she was the bastard child of Philip Blankenship, or because she knew something that no one else knew, or simply because Alex had asked for her help in changing the direction of the company—there was no way for Zoey to know. And Zoey had witnessed the murder. Once someone had killed one person—or three—killing more to keep the secrets just seemed logical.

Her phone was buzzing in her pocket. She stopped, and stepped out of the flow of foot traffic to take a breath before she fell over. She almost left her phone where it was. If it was Alex calling her—she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to keep walking, even after the bullshit dismissive brush-off he’d given her. She told herself that if it was him, she’d just ignore the call and deal with it later.

But it wasn’t him; Helen’s dark complexion stuck its tongue out at her in the contact photo, a shot she’d taken a few months ago, after way too many vodka martinis. She swiped to take the call. She took a deep breath before she said “Hey, lady,” but that was as much as she could get out before her voice broke, and the tears came again.

Helen, always one to cut to the core of the issue, swore the air blue, and then took a deep breath. “What did that wanker do to you, Zoey?”

“I can’t—” she took a deep breath, wished it had done more to settle her, and then tried again. “I’m in the middle of the street.”

“Right,” Helen replied. “Can you get to my office, or do we need a bar?”

“It’s—what—before noon—”

“This is New York. We’ll pretend it’s brunch.”

She opened her mouth to say no. To say it was a horrible idea, and that you didn’t drink when you were sad if you wanted to stay healthy, and that was what had gotten her Daddy in so much trouble all those years ago, and none of it matter. “I’m on my way,” was what came out of her mouth instead. “Where am I going?”

CHAPTER EIGHT

The cafe Helen found for them happily served them mimosas with their brunch, and didn’t seem to care or notice that they were barely ordering any food, or that Zoey carried a duffel bag and laptop with her. In fact, they offered to store the items behind the bar, so that they wouldn’t be in her way. She let them take the duffel, but kept her laptop bag. As soon as the waiter walked away
she spilled the whole story out to Helen, from start to finish.

“My god,” Helen said, shaking her head slowly back and forth. “What a mess you’ve gotten yourself into, kitten.”

“Don’t I know it.” After the first two mimosas, Zoey found herself asking for a cup of coffee and an order of toast. She could feel the liquor sloshing around unpleasantly in her belly, and she didn’t need to be hungover by the time she wanted to sleep.

“He treated you horribly.”

“No, he tried. He took care of me, made sure I was okay. After.”

Helen’s expression darkened. “That’s not the point. I know for a fact he learned more than a little from Marie. She’d ban him for life if she knew he broke your skin because he was angry. You never break out tools when you’re upset, you just don’t.”

“I should have told him no—”

“No.” Helen sighed and rubbed her hand across her forehead for a moment. “I mean, yes, you probably should have, but you’re saying it like this is your fault, and it’s not. He should have done better by you. You don’t break out new tools once someone’s in the scene, because there’s a lot of argument about how comfortable people are not consenting but not safewording. That can be a gray area for some subs. And you just don’t do anything when you’re not in control. It’s too risky. There’s too much potential for—well, for what happened.”

A weight that Zoey hadn’t even realized she was carrying fell away with a great thump, and she could breathe a little easier. “So you don’t think this is my fault?” She had to say it, had to watch Helen shake her head, her expression soft and careful.

“Not even a little bit,” Helen said. “And you had every right, after a scene like that, to ask for some time. In fact, I’d think less of you if you were right back in it without some time to sort out the feelings in your head.”

“I don’t know if I want to end things with him,” Zoey said. She wasn’t sure why it was true. All logic told her that this thing, whatever it was, wasn’t working out, and that she’d be best served by getting the hell out of dodge. But logic couldn’t compete with the hissing need she’d felt when his palm connected with the lush skin of her ass, when his fingers plundered the depths of her cunt, and he made that thick sighing sound of pleasure. One of the things she and Helen had long since agreed on was that sexual compatibility was the most important part of many long-term relationships, and the one most people were least likely to consider important. Knowing that she had this kink, knowing how much it satisfied her to have it met, she didn’t think she could go without it.

But that wasn’t the way to think about things. There were plenty more Doms in New York City. Helen would probably be able to introduce her to lots of them. But there was more to her attraction to Alex. It was the way he’d ridden in like a white knight to save her from the cops, even though she hadn’t actually needed saving. It was the way he’d let her take the lead sometimes without seeming to feel diminished or lessened by it. It was the way he’d watched her when he thought she wasn’t looking. The quiet and deep appreciation in his eyes. Those were not things she wanted to give up without long and careful thought.

“Do you want my advice?” Helen asked. Her voice was more careful and subdued than she normally used, and it made it easier for Zoey to nod her yes. “Keep things vanilla for a while, if you want to keep exploring with him. Tell him that you need to get to know him, and have a better idea of how to be with him out of scenes before you’re comfortable going back.”

“That’s…actually a really good idea,” Zoey said. “Thanks.”

“And be careful,” Helen said. “I can accept that someone lost control once. But if it happens again, I will pummel him into the ground. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Zoey replied. She felt warm and soft, and it wasn’t just the alcohol filtering through to her blood and the coffee to her head. Or maybe it was.

“But don’t call him now,” Helen said. Maybe she’d seen Zoey’s hand moving towards her cell phone. “Let him sit with this for a little bit. Call him or text this afternoon.”

“Okay.”

“And eat something, kitten, you look exhausted.”

***

Alex walked in the door of his office building and knew, without a doubt, that he
’d lost. Aaron Schwartz stood leaning against the door jamb, a quietly satisfied smile spreading his lips. Rage burned through Alex like a bad dinner, tearing through his torso, squeezing his heart, clenching his fists.

“The meeting has been canceled,” Schwartz said. He unbuttoned his suit coat, as if he was getting ready for Alex to take a swing at him. The man’s iron eyes watched him with cold calculation, and Alex tried just to focus on breathing. This was not a time to lose control. He knew he looked haggard, even after his shower, and a couple shots of coffee. There was only so much he could do. “With Olivia in control of the remaining shares of the legacy, she has control of the board. You know this. Why are you still fighting?”

Alex glanced at Brianna’s empty desk, let his gaze linger, and then looked back at Schwartz. “It was all her, wasn’t it? God, I never thought she’d be this stupid.”

Schwartz snorted. “Don’t try and play me, boy. You act like you’re Philip’s protege, but you’re far too soft hearted to be anything like him. Your mother is saving you from wasting your fortune chasing a dream.”

“Stop twirling your mustache and tell my mother that I’d like to speak to her,” Alex said, his jaw clenched until he thought his teeth would crack.

Schwartz stepped closer, slowly and carefully. The man was old, worn looking, but Alex was suddenly more than sure that if he ever had to throw down with the pale man with his rheumy eyes, it would be a close fight. “No,” Schwartz said, his voice low and dangerous. There was no Brianna there to back him up, no one to see the bastard threatening the heir to the company. Alex straightened his back and did not break the older man’s gaze, not for a second. “I am no one’s errand boy.” Each word was carefully enunciated, deliberately separated from its companions. “You and your cunt girlfriend should remember that.”

Something inside of Alex snapped. He caught both ends of the emotional rope and held them as fiercely as he could. He couldn’t afford to show any weakness. Not right now. Not with this man staring down into him, his eyes so cold that it was easy to imagine him standing over a woman with a gun, pulling a trigger. You didn’t run away from a predator, and you didn’t show a killer weakness. He didn’t speak. Any threat he made would sound hollow and empty after Schwartz’s snarl. So he just stood, his eyes focused on the older man, willing himself not to blink.

How long it went before Schwartz made an angry, dismissive sound and stepped away, Alex didn’t know. It felt like forever. It felt like no time. Schwartz didn’t shoulder check him as he walked away, although maybe that wasn’t surprising. That was a younger man’s move, after all.

“Your commie friend is in your office,” Schwartz tossed over his shoulder. “Enjoy yourselves.” Something about the tone attempted to turn the statement into a lewd slur, as if Alex should be ashamed to hang out with his male friend. It seemed to insinuate they’d just rip their clothes off and start sucking each other’s cocks as soon as the door closed.

He laughed to himself. It wasn't as if they hadn’t done that a few times in college, at the request of one or the other of their girlfriends. Leave it to cranky old men to feel like that was a parting shot that could cut down someone’s manhood.

Of course, he was thinking more and more that the old bastard was a murderer, so laughing at his back might not be a wise move. Entertaining, sure. But not wise.

He pushed open the door, closed it behind them, and then, finally, he let the weakness settle through his knees, let his body shake with rage and adrenaline until he thought his hands would fall off his arms. The son of a bitch had threatened Zoey. She had no part in this.

She had no part in this until you made her part of this. Now, she’s involved and endangered because of you. Good job.

He got himself to his desk and let himself sink into his chair, burying his head in his hands.

Leo had been stretched out on the couch, feet up on the arm, tapping away at his cellphone. Alex hardly heard the big man move until a cup of coffee was pressed into his hand. He sipped at it without thinking; it was nowhere near as good as Brianna made, but it was helpful.

“Your mother’s
zalupa
told me I couldn’t come in,” Leo said, his voice quiet and calm as he slid down into the chair on the other side of the desk with his own mug. “I offered to show him where to put his objections, but it wasn’t necessary, in the end.”

Alex smiled faintly. “I can see it.”

“I tried, Alex. I’m sorry.”

That brought him back to himself, at least a little. “What are you apologizing for, Leo? I don’t remember even asking for anything.”

Leo shrugged. “After our last talk, you were concerned enough about making the vote go your way. I called people, and I exerted pressure. Someone was pressing them harder, Alex.” He sighed, and shook his head slowly. “You must be careful,
moy brat
. Not too many people can push harder than me.”

“Is my mother one of them?” Alex couldn’t bring himself to raise his head and look his long-time friend in the eyes.

It was a funny thing, really. He and Olivia had been at odds for so very many years, he hadn’t thought that it would hurt this much to admit that she was this cold. That she had this much hatred inside of her. He knew that his mother had suffered in the years that she’d been married to his father. He knew that living so many years without the love of the man she wanted had hollowed her out. He’d tried, in therapy and out of it, to forgive her for never finding that love with her children. Some days, he’d even managed it.

But he couldn’t help thinking of a picture of his mother, long before she and his father had married. She’d been a young girl, barely a teenager, wearing a bright white dress that made her dark complexion stand out, with a pretty straw hat embellished with flowers. She’d smiled in the picture.

“Leo, I don’t know what to do. People are dying.”

Leo shook his head. “You know me, Alex. I have certain solutions to these sorts of problems. They don’t tend to be the solutions that you want.”

Alex nodded. More death wasn’t going to solve anything. “So you think I should go to the police.”

Another long silence from his friend. “I think that you want to go to the police.”

“You think I shouldn’t?”

Leo shook his head. “We aren’t debating philosophy. Are you sure it is her, and her dog?”

Alex thought it through. No, he wasn’t sure. He was far from sure. He shook his head. “I think she’s involved somehow, but is she the one pulling the trigger? Or sending the man who pulls the trigger? I don’t know. I don’t think so. But I don’t know if that’s wishful thinking, if I just don’t want to believe it of her.”

Leo offered another sage nod. “If you go to the police, and you don’t like the results you get, that makes it trickier for me to become involved down the line, Alex. I will do almost anything for you, but I am responsible for my people. I cannot guarantee that anyone would take that job, even if I were able to offer it.”

Alex’s skin gave a shiver. “I don’t think I could ask you to do it anyway, Leo. The fact that you would be willing to try means the world to me, but you’re right. It’s not how I solve my problems.”

Leo nodded. “Then we must make another plan. Work through shell corporations, gather more resources. Convince those within your own organization that the change you want is within their best interests, so that they convince the shareholders for you.”