Jameson Hotel - the Dark Suite Series: Parts One, Two & Three (27 page)

“Are you friends with the owner of this resort?”

“Owners. There’re two, and yes. They rent boat slips down where my
boats are docked. I met them a year ago at the lake. They’re brothers. A couple
of potheads in
their
fifties. Good guys,
laid
back, and open-minded. The type who try and steer clear
of the cops and who want to be left alone to live their lives in peace, like
me.”

“Do you buy your weed from them?” She takes a bite of pasta and dabs
the corners of her mouth with her napkin, trying not to smudge her lipstick.

I nod. “I have some waiting for me when we leave. I was running low
after such a stressful week. My supply usually lasts twice as long as this one
did.”

Her fingers twirl the silver and jade gemstone necklace that’s around
her neck. It’s in the shape of a heart and casts a green tint on the flesh
under her chin. Earrings and a ring match the necklace, cluing me in to the
fact that she prepped for this as much as I did. I can’t wait to see what’s
under her dress.

“My mother made them.” She takes a drink of wine then puts her fingers
back on the necklace. “I saw you eyeing my jewelry. My mother made this set for
my twenty-first birthday. She sells her pieces at some of the downtown
galleries. It’s a hobby for her, but I could see her doing it full-time. She’s
good.”

I’m nervous now. I have a box... a special gift waiting for her in my
pocket, only it may not be as meaningful to her as her mother’s jewelry, and
she won’t be able to wear my present around her neck.

“The set’s unique.”

“She gets custom orders and tries to personalize the stone with the
person she’s making each piece for. This one,” she takes the heart in her hand,
“she said could be worn to attract love, but it would also provide me with
balance and peace.”

Yeah, I might hold out entirely on my gift. No, screw that. This is
our
night. I can do this.

“Sounds like the two of you have a decent relationship. I couldn’t
imagine my mother making something for Sophia or me.”

“We’ve always been close. She’s the type of mother who was very
supportive, until she couldn’t be anymore.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning you can’t rely on your parents forever. It killed her that I
was living in my car, but we both knew if she pulled me out of the situation I
might come to rely on her whenever I was in need. There’s an age when you have
to break free and when your parents should cut the cord. It was time.”

“But...” I start to reply, leaning back in my chair and adjusting my
tie then feeling the box inside my pocket. No, not yet. “But... I pulled you
out of the situation. Should I have left you in the car to sleep in thirty-degree
weather, in pitch-black parking lots with a steak knife for protection at your
feet? I disagree with your logic. Would you do that to your daughter?”

“Would you? Think of your son when he’s twenty-two. Would you?”

My son knows karate, and at twenty-two with a sword collection, I can’t
imagine anyone’s going to want to fuck with him. He’d be just fine living in
his car. “Jack’s a rebel.”

“So am I,” she says.

She’s right and I’m sure her mother recognizes how strong she is. Most
parents know what they’re doing.

“Still, there’s no way I could’ve left you alone in your car that
night. It would’ve been wrong to walk away.”

She smiles with flushed cheeks as I replenish our wine.

“But, if you weren’t so fucking gorgeous, I probably would’ve fucked
you then left you there.”

She kicks my leg, now with an even deeper shade of red on her cheeks.
I’m on a roll tonight.

“You bastard.”

Maybe not.

“You can ask my mother her reasoning when you meet her.”

“Uh.” I nearly choke. “No.”

“She won’t mind.”

“I mean I’m not meeting your parents. They’d have a shit fit that we’re
together. We must be close in age.”

“No, they’re forty-five.”

“Yeah, I’m in my late thirties.”

“But you don’t act like it. You seem more like someone my age, or
younger.”

“That’s not a compliment, Jules.”

She laughs, obviously fucking with my head. “Is that a text?” she asks
looking at my watch. I check the screen and see a message from my son.

Still
no card.
No money. You suck!

I exhale. Fuck, I did forget to mail it out again.

“Who is it?”

“My son. He’s just saying hi.” I put the text out of mind. I’ll call
him back as soon as I get a chance. Maybe tomorrow.

“So tell me, Julia Alison
Barringer
, what are
your plans?”

“Like what? Tonight?” She finishes her pasta and cleans the sauce from
her plate using a slice of bread like it’s a sponge. I’ve never seen a woman
eat as much as her.

“Not tonight, in the future, say five years from now?”

“Well, I’d be in heaven if I had my own salon, but five years is
pushing that dream, especially considering I’m broke, so maybe ten... when I’m
in my thirties. That would be nice.” She sips her wine and smiles at the view
then back at me. Her tongue licks the red liquid off her top lip and she swirls
the glass before taking another drink. I can help her make that dream come
true. “Mark, I know we’re still in the beginning stages of this relationship,
and I don’t want to scare you off, but perhaps we’ll still be together. I could
see myself being happy with you for quite some time.”

My fingers fiddle with her gift. I’m quiet, waiting and wanting to hear
more. My heart pounds with anticipation, harder than it’s ever beat in the
past. Fiercer than when I kill and faster than when I fuck.

“But,” she places her warm hand over mine, “only if you allow me to
have some control in this relationship. I won’t stick around if you don’t. You
can restrain me when we play, other than that, we need to share the power or
this will never work. I’ll try not to dominate you, if you do the same for me.”

Hell... her touch... those warm eyes... her soft voice and the strength
of her words; I’ve been waiting for a woman like her my whole life.

I look down at the black box and place it slowly on the table. Her eyes
widen as my fingers tap the top. A moment later, I slide it forward while
holding my breath. Here we go.

“Mark?” she whispers, placing her elbows on the table and covering her
mouth with two hands. She gazes at the velvet-covered gift, then at me.

I lean back and swallow hard. “Open it.”

She doesn’t. The candles flicker, the lift reaches the top of the
mountain and stops, the darkness of the night surrounds us, but she doesn’t
move.

“Jules,” I whisper. “I’m fine with us sharing the power. Believe me
when I say I want you by my side. This is the most meaningful and heartfelt gift
I’ve ever bought for a woman. Please, open it... be with me.”

She touches the box with shaky hands then finally flips open the lid
and smiles from ear to ear. “Beautiful,” she says softly. “So beautiful.”

Oh thank fuck.

Her eyes well with tears as she holds the Handmade
Coltellerie
Berti
Italian Pocket Knife, a romantic offering, and
a blade that was most commonly exchanged between a couple as a symbol of their
engagement. Better than a fucking ring. I’m not going to tell her the
significance; I’ll wait for her to figure it out on her own. What she does know
is it’s a gift of devotion, and that’s enough.

It has a black handle decorated with a white pattern and a four-inch
blade engraved with entwined hearts. Her fingers run along the sharp edge,
stopping when she sees her initials.

“I can’t think of a more ideal trio of letters to be etched into my
lover’s blade,” I say.

“JAB,” she whispers. “It’s stunning, Mark.” She holds it next to the
candle appreciative of the craftsmanship. I’m glad she approves, it’s more
expensive than any knife I’ve ever bought for my own collection.

“I love you,” she says, still studying the heart design, entirely
uninterested in a verbal response. The
Berti
says it
all.

I move to her side, placing my hand on her shoulder and kissing her
neck. “What are you thinking about?” I whisper in her ear.

She turns to me and runs her hand down the side of my face, stopping
under my chin. I’ll wait to kiss her lips until she answers my question.

“Is this something you want me to use?” she asks.

“What you do with it is your choice, not mine.”

She looks back at the knife and nods then surges out of her chair,
nearly tackling me to the ground. Our lips explode, and I rush to undress.

“I was hoping you’d do that,” I pant, stripping out of my pants and
ready to fuck. My jacket lands on the floor, and then my gun, holster, tie,
shirt,
her
dress... shit.

“Fuck, you’re remarkable.” She’s wearing thigh highs and a black garter
with lace underwear. “Fuck,” I say again.

She grins at my reaction then reaches back to the table and takes the
knife in her hand, driving me wild. I can’t believe it... she runs the blade
between her cleavage and with a quick jut forward, her bra is cut, releasing
her tits.

With my cock in hand, I rub the pre-cum around my tip, showing her I’m
ready. She places a finger in the air and motions in a scolding manner to not
rush things. That’s okay. I can wait.

The knife moves playfully down her stomach and disappears under her
thong. When it comes back into sight, the lace garment is cut and on the floor.

“You’re gorgeous,” I whisper, looking over her youthful body. “Tell me
what you need. This is your night.”

“
Our
night,” she whispers.
“And what I need is you. I want us both to cum in the sky, hovering over these
mountains. Can you do that for me?”

“Anything.”

She stands before me, inches away, and I close my eyes.

“Touch me with it,” I request.

The knife glides along my flesh, tracing my heart before moving up to
my neck. I lift my chin, becoming even more stimulated by her tease. It runs
along my jawline, down my abs, then back to my heart where she presses the tip
against my flesh.

I offer myself to her, standing feet apart with my hands behind my back
and my head bowed. She inhales... and the blade pierces my flesh; a small cut
over my heart. I open my eyes and we both watch the drop of blood run down my
chest. The deep red, warm release is my reward for the evening, and it’s
spectacular.

With my head still down, I raise my eyes to share my best menacing
leer. “Take out your tampon and get ready to fuck,” I command.

A moment later her back is pressed against the window and my cock is
pleading to be inside her pussy. Our bodies ache to unite, but there’s no
movement. Not yet. I want to look at her before we begin. I’m overwhelmed by
her first cut, her first draw of blood... it was for me. I gave her the power
of the blade and she shared it, now all I want is to marvel at her gleaming
face, showing respect and devotion to her and our relationship.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “For everything.”

“You’re adored.” I grin, caressing the side of her face. My head tilts
and our lips meet, a soft touch to set her off, then pressing harder and
sliding my tongue along hers to encourage an outburst of groans. Success.

She clings to me, her legs squeezing my torso like an octopus seizing
its prey. I bend my knees and grab her ass, lifting her onto my dick.

“Uh,” I exhale into her ear. My two fingers raise her chin so she can
see my eyes when I speak. “You’re the first woman I’ve ever lusted for and the
only one who’s given me comfort. You put me at ease and pacify my heart.”

“Mark,” she whispers.

Our temples are locked, side-by-side as I stare through the window at
the distant lights from the downtown district. Her fingertips stroke my neck
and my hips thrust. Hard and fast I work my cock into her, kissing her shoulder
and gripping her tits. My blood coats her chest. Her blood coats my dick. It’s
an impeccable fuck, only not rough enough for my liking.

My cock becomes cruel, digging into her with long and forceful drives.

“Talk to me,” I demand. “Tell me what to do.”

“Put your fingers over my clit,” she huffs with her hands in my hair.
“Can you feel how wet my pussy is?”

I moan with delight.

“Fuck me. Fuck me, Mark. Fuck me with your long stiff cock.”

“Jesus.” I bite her flesh while my free hand slides under her garter.

“Yes... give me that cock.”

“Oh, my god,” I pant and throw my head back. “That’s it, Jules. Get
nasty.”

“Fuck me. Press harder.”

My fingers work her clit. Fluttering across the engorged flesh,
circling it, moving faster, until...