Just One Night, Part 1: The Stranger (13 page)
Read Just One Night, Part 1: The Stranger Online
Authors: Kyra Davis
“Oh, now you want to talk? So it’s really not just about sex?” I say with only partial sarcasm.
“I told you, I want to know you in every way. I’m going to go up to the deck. If you come up to talk, then I’ll know that at least there’s some hope that you’ll let me.”
And with that he leaves the cabin. I listen to his footsteps fade away only to hear them again after he goes above board and starts to walk the deck, which is now acting as my ceiling.
With a jolt I realize that Robert Dade is no longer pushing me. He’s not trying to tempt me or overwhelm me.
Robert Dade just asked me if we could talk.
Like I would talk to a normal person? Have we ever done that? It’s always been passion and teasing and excitement. Have we ever just sat down and had a conversation that wasn’t about work?
No.
But maybe we could. The possibility bewilders me and then quickly builds up a mysterious appeal. We could be more than the roar of a sports car, more than a rash night in a luxury hotel.
I close my eyes for a moment. The images that swirl before me are different from the fantasies I’ve entertained over the last few weeks. In these imaginings I see Robert and me sitting side by side at a movie theater eating popcorn. I see us poring over the
Wall Street Journal
and
LA Times
while eating Sunday brunch. In my fantasy our brash impulses are supported by a bond that is every bit as strong as the beams that hold up his decadent house on the hill.
Robert is the man who unlocks my inhibitions and revels in their display. But if in addition to all that he could also be my friend and my partner . . . if he could be a man who willingly walks with me on firmer ground, maybe, just maybe that would change things.
Robert has always appealed to my devil, but what if I gave him the chance to befriend my angel?
If he could, then maybe, just maybe I could be a woman who has it all.
Little sparks of hope ignite inside my heart but the ringing of my cell phone jars me out of my musings. It’s coming from my purse that sits discarded on the floor.
It’s Dave’s ringtone.
I pull out the phone but don’t pick up. Letting my cool and collected recorded message greet him. I can’t talk to him now, not while in this place and certainly not before I have more time to sort through my thoughts and emotions.
But then I hear that he’s sent me a text. Which he never does.
I know where you are, I know what you’re doing.
I try to make sense of the words. He can’t mean . . . how . . .
The next text comes.
I’m supposed to call Dylan Freeland soon. He doesn’t know what you’re doing . . . yet. But if you don’t get off that boat and meet me by your car in five minutes I will make sure Dylan, our families, EVERYONE knows.
I stare at the screen, my eyes wide and unblinking. Dave has never threatened me before, not with anything, let alone the destruction of my career. But then I have never betrayed him like this before.
I look down at myself; my pants are wrinkled and my shirt’s still in my hand. I’m shaking. I’m ruined.
Another text.
Leave him, now. I’m giving you one chance. Take it. Take it or I’ll take everything.
I have never felt so cornered or more scared. It’s not just that he could cost me my job. He could cost me my entire professional reputation. He could cost me my parents’ respect. He could take away their conviction that we, as a family, are good.
With unsteady hands I put on my shirt, gather up my purse, and go above board.
“Kasie,” Robert says, his tone so soft I could curl up in it like a blanket. “We just need to talk for a bit. You don’t have to leave. We don’t have to play these games. . . .”
But his voice fades off as I walk past him without stopping. I get off the boat and walk away. I can feel him watching me. He thinks I’ve made a choice. He thinks I’m running away from him.
But I’m not. I’m not even being led. I’m being pushed.
And it occurs to me that I have never ignored him before. My lack of response to his conciliatory words might actually be the one thing that will keep him from pursuing me. It may be the thing that makes him give up.
The thought makes me stumble but I keep walking, away from the boat, away from the peer and the horizon, back to the parking lot where I can see Dave. Even from a distance I can see his anger pouring out of him, burning the pavement, setting fire to any sense of security I have left.
“I could make you pay,” he hisses when I’m close enough to hear.
“Dave, I’m so sorry. . . .”
“Shut up.” He holds out his hand. “The keys to your car, please.”
Without a word I give them to him.
He unlocks the doors. “Get in the passenger seat.”
I do. He gets in the driver seat and with a screech he peels out of the parking lot, away from Robert Dade. . . .
And toward God only knows what.
From
JUST ONE NIGHT,
PART 2:
Exposed
Available March 18th
I
N MY MIND I’M
still on that boat in that moment. Yes, that’s the reality I choose to believe in. I give Robert my hand and he whispers words of reassurance. He tells me he’s found a way for me to be safe in my love for him. We can be together and no one needs to be hurt. We’re just two people, we don’t have the power to conjure deadly storms or turn the whole universe inside out. We’re just two people falling in love.
He tells me we can run away, just for a little while, and that when we come back everything will be as it should be. I’ll still have my position as a consultant, my career path will still be assured. He will still be the CEO of Maned Wolf Securities, my firm’s biggest account. We will work together, play together, be together.
We don’t have to feel the pain of guilt and consequences. Only pleasure. As he tells me all this he reaches forward and brushes my cheek.
His hands are gentle and rough. He’s built things with those hands, delicate woodwork and powerful companies. He runs those hands through my hair and tugs just slightly.
“Kasie,” he says, and something inside me comes alive.
I feel his mouth open mine as his hands slip between my legs applying just a little pressure . . . just there against my clit. The fabric of my clothes feels flimsy and weak against the heat that we generate. I wonder if I’ll take them off or if they’ll just melt away on their own.
But Robert answers that question when he pulls my shirt from me, cups my breasts, pinches my nipples as they strain against my bra. We’re on the deck of his boat, docked in a slip in Marina Del Rey. People can see us. I can feel their eyes as they shift from the ocean to the fire. They’re watching him undress me, watching him touch me and I just don’t care.
Because I’m with Robert. Because I know that when I’m with him I’m safe.
He pulls me to him as he gently sucks on the curve of my neck. I can feel his erection pressing against my stomach, I feel myself getting wet as I anticipate welcoming him inside me. People are watching as I pull off his shirt revealing a perfect body, hard and chiseled with the artistry of a sculptor. People are watching as he opens my bra, as it drops to my feet, as he cups my breasts and honors them with sweet kisses.
I lay back on a deck chair . . . had there been a deck chair on the boat?
It doesn’t matter. In the reality I choose it’s there and I can recline all the way back, half naked, inviting him to take me, here in plain view. Let them watch. Let them take pictures for all I care. None of them matter. This is my world. I choose what rules are to be followed and which will be burned. I lay on this deck chair and I smile as I feel Robert’s fingers working on the buttons at my waist, smile as I feel him pull my pants off, gasp as his fingers brush against my soaked panties.
“She’s magnificent,” a man murmurs. He’s all the way over at the end of the peer but I can hear his voice perfectly. He’s never seen anyone like me. He’s never seen someone consumed by this kind of passion and power.
I watch as Robert pulls off his belt, his eyes never leaving mine. He is oblivious to our audience. He only sees me, the woman he wants, the animal he’s unleashed.
As he strips down I find myself breathless. He’s the reason the Greeks decided that the human form was worthy of worship. His desire is on display and I reach for him, but he doesn’t immediately oblige.
Instead, he kneels before me, pulls down my panties, splits me open with his tongue.
I arch my back and cry out. I’m so tender now, so ready. More people have come to watch. Women and men. They touch me with their eyes as surely as Robert Dade touches me with his hands and mouth. His tongue continues to toy with me, moving slowly at first and then faster as his fingers plunge inside of me, making the experience complete.
This time it’s me who runs my fingers through his salt and pepper hair, me who tugs as an overwhelming desire pounds through me. My hips are raised, the orgasm is coming. I hear the whispers of the onlookers, hear the clicks of their cameras as I explode, unable to contain myself for a moment longer. And then Robert pulls away, smiles . . . the lounge chair I’m on seems wider now. It’s sturdier too as he straddles me, lies on top of me, presses his cock against my core . . . but not entering, not yet.
He looks into my eyes as I silently plead; the audience holds their breath. They share my anticipation, share my need and when, with a hard thrust, he pushes inside of me I feel their approval just as I feel my entire body rock with the force of him.
I move my hips with our rhythm, run my nails down his soft skin, feel his hard muscles, feel him push himself further and further into my body.
He pulls my leg over his shoulder and drives in deeper still. His eyes never leave mine. I can feel his breath, smell his aftershave on my skin.
I can barely contain myself, the passion is too much but he holds me still, pinning my arms above my head as he sometimes does, forcing me to do nothing but receive this pleasure as the world watches.
Now every part of me is throbbing as he leads me in this dance. Every part of me is on fire.
“Robert,” I moan his name, the only word I’m capable of saying, the only word I can think of in this moment.
He smiles and speeds up the rhythm. It’s the final push I need. Again my back arches, my head thrashes from side to side, my breasts reach up, my nipples brush against his chest as I cry out again and this time his voice joins mine as we climax together, there on the deck of the boat.
People are watching, but they can’t touch us. We’re too powerful to be bothered by their attention. We don’t even acknowledge them as we try to catch our breath, holding one another, drenched in one another’s sweat.
People are watching, they see me, see the woman Robert sees—they see the animal, see the strength and the vulnerability. But I don’t see them. All I know right now is the man who is lying on top of me, breathing deeply. He looks into my eyes and I know we are safe.
“I’m falling in love with you,” he says.
And I smile.
That’s the reality I want to believe in, but as I lie in Dave’s bed, untouched but completely violated, I find that the fantasy doesn’t have enough substance for me to hold onto. It floats away into my subconscious, waiting for sleep to come where it can live again.
But I know sleep is a long way off. Dave is snoring by my side. Seemingly at peace. How is that possible? How can he be peaceful after the violence of our last encounter?
Is he satisfied in his revenge?
Maybe yes, maybe no. Dave would say there had been no revenge. He would say he was helping me.
Months ago I heard a terrorist interviewed by a reporter. He had hostages but he called them “guests.” The hostages had nodded their heads and sung the praises of their captor. He was the perfect host, they said. They loved every moment of their forced imprisonment.
