Scrupulous (An Affliction of Falling Novel Book 1) (18 page)

“Good, and that next to it is the monster. We call it that as it draws out monster orgasms. It really is just a machine-operated fuck table.” I focus on the giant dildo situated at an angle in front of leg stirrups. I’ll be, so it is. A gyno table rigged with a remote control dildo and leather straps to restrain a participant. The slap of leather on flesh in the distance startles me and makes me take a step back from ‘the monster.’

“Care to sample that as well?” he huskily asks as he moves closer.

“Uh- no, thank you.” He chuckles good naturedly at my response.

“Are those Saint Andrew’s crosses?” I motion to the other side.

“Yes. A personal favorite of mine.”

Stepping closer to observe a couple, I am transfixed by the female’s limp body, completely enraptured by the pleasure being delivered by the large, shirtless male. She is floating high in what Samuel taught me is called subspace, slacked in her taut chains, void of any cares in the world at all. The guy works her over with an impressively huge whip, kissing her skin with rather large welts that somehow don’t break the surface, even though they should have considering the force in which they were being delivered. As the next delivered ‘crack’ from the whip lands on her flesh, her head lulls back in ecstasy, eyes completely glazed over.

I step even closer to the couple, the rhythmic sounds and motions drawing me in, like a moth to a flame. I can almost feel her pleasure as it is palpable under her Master’s hand. As the males back flexes and his thighs tighten for another swing of the whip in a dance around her, a distinct tattoo of a geometrical and organic design blending down his shoulder and onto his arm catches my attention.

I know that tattoo. I know that ass. Fucking Gavin! He is not supposed to be here! His wrist snaps and the whips lash echoes out in a bite, followed by her deep, sensuous moan. Gavin approaches the woman and whispers something in her ear as he smooths his hand down her back and settles it tenderly on her ass, roughly chasing away the sting of the latest delivery.

Abstractly observing the situation, I don’t have any emotional firings over the matter. But then my stupid heart decides to leap in my chest and sting my eyes. Bastard wasn’t hurt lying in a ditch somewhere like I had feared; he has been busy living his life as he sees fit. Just as I had told him to do.

We were not entirely exclusive
, I remind myself. The intention of coming here was to learn more and see if I can be what he needs, what I want to be for him. I’m not planning to change myself for him, simply to be more open to trying new experiences that could bring us closer and possibly help with long-term satisfaction for both of us. Days without hearing from him made me panic, made me want to reevaluate how stringent I have been, which led me here.

“Look like something you want to try? We can use the riding crop.” Devon’s voice drips with scintillating promises and is quite enticing. That crop was delightful, but did I want to stoop that low? Scene with another next to Gavin just to spite the man? I want to, which is odd and out of character for me, but I know better. Decisions, decisions. My scorned heart ends up winning over logic.

“Master Devon, would you be able to show me the wider crop instead, please?” I intentionally ask loud enough for Gavin to catch the hint of my voice, but not loud enough to disturb the others invested in their scenes. Gavin freezes, and I see the muscles in his rippling back tense to a disturbing degree.

“Of course, right this way,” he says silkily, encouraging me back to the wall of toys.

Purposely not looking over at where I can feel a heated stare burning into me, I allow Devon to position my body and bend it at the waist, my bottom conveniently now facing Gavin. Devon makes quick work and wields me a good one that draws out a whimper of pleasure from me as I turn my head slightly to look back at the one now throwing daggers my way.

“You seem to like that, pet.”

“Yes, Sir.” He gives me another without asking my permission, which doesn’t necessarily offend. God, I want more, but not by his hand. Devon is quite handsome by every sense, but the fuming, dark form across the way is what is truly setting me ablaze. Devon administers another. I have to brace myself loosely on the wall of toys as pleasure lights up my backside and I moan out. We are getting carried away and I am allowing it in a moment of perverted lust, picturing Gavin as another delivers the stimuli.

“Master Devon? I’d like to stop now before I get too carried away,” I admit, the visions in my mind screaming,
No! Don’t stop now!

“Would that be so bad?” he challenges and runs a hand down my tender rump. I swear I hear a low, decidedly pissed growl reverberate over from Gavin.

“Not at all, but I would like to take this slow and build up my endurance,” I attempt to appeal to his rational side.

“Of course. Can I show you anything else?” he eagerly asks, not wanting our time together to end.

“Not at this time, but thank you very much for taking the time to attend to me. I really appreciate it.” I cheekily lean into him, knowing good and well what I might be doing to the looming figure a few feet away. “It is time for me go home. I have to work tomorrow and all.”

“I understand. May I see you out?” he asks and offers his arm again.

“Yes, thank you.” I take the offer and as soon as we approach the stairs, I throw a knowing glare back at the set of hot eyes tracking my every move. Gavin has temporarily abandoned his sub chained to the cross. It isn’t my style to play games, and that little jaunt was enough. I hadn’t intended for him to even be here as I explored, and seeing him with another did things to me that are hard to understand.

Maybe the truth is right in front of me. This adventure proved little except my incessant growing desire and need to have that man in my life. Forgoing anymore cares on the matter, I shoot Samuel a scathing message for never getting back to me as my cab delivers me to my front door. Gavin wants to play games, then he can play by himself. I delivered my warning with as much tact as I could manage given the circumstances.

Slipping into bed, I silently smile to myself. Pissing that man off after he pulled another disappearing act on me brought a sense of pleasure that I can’t describe.

∞

Gavin

Seeing straight red, I call Desiree over to see to my charge, who is still flying high, and head straight to my room. Throwing on my running clothes, I hit the back door and let the cool night air encompass me. Unexpectedly seeing Sorcha show up and allow Devon to put his hands on her gutted me. It set my heart on fire and made me burn with the pain of jealously. She isn’t really mine. I have no real claim to her. We agreed to have a loose arrangement and see others on the side.

I run until my legs and lungs burn from lack of oxygen before collapsing against a brick wall. A rot sets into my gut and I realize that I have to let her go. She asked for no-strings-attached originally, and after last week, we agreed to a bit more formal yet open relationship. But I can’t keep my end of the deal. I cannot bear to see her with anyone else. Since neither of us are ready for a full commitment, I am going to have to step away.

Sure, I have been pushing her for more and more, but in reality, I am personally only willing to give so much. Because I am a selfish bastard. And she isn’t ready for more. There is no way I will push her any further. If we end up together, it has to be mutual, not based on coercion. The thought of never seeing her again, never hearing her laugh, never holding her makes me want to puke and punch my fist through the wall. I’ve never loved before and now I see why. The pain that can accompany the trials and tribulations of that fucking emotion are more than this sadist can take.

Sorcha

Gavin never showed up or called, which was okay with me. My work followed the next night and consumed me as the holidays descended, demanding more and more time. As the days quickly passed, Gavin’s absence began to rot me from the inside. Even though I could feel his eyes on me, lurking in the darkness of his so-called security job, he never bothered to face me personally. We seem to be at a Mexican stand-off, neither wanting to give.

The more time that passes, the more bitter I become. He wanted more than I could give him and I can’t come to terms with the fact that I wanted to give him more. Or is it that my pride is dueling with my desire to give him everything? The following weekend, almost two weeks after our run in at the dungeon, Samuel finally calls me out.

“Sor, your mood is pissing everyone off. Even Daz, who normally doesn’t give a shit, is bitching about it. Please get it together. I have no idea what has gotten into you. Hell, I have barely heard from you, but deal with it before you lose your job!” he hisses as we set up shop, upset that I had just slammed a flat of top-end bottles on the bar.

“That fucker never called or showed back up. I caught him Dom-ing another woman the next night, the very night you were supposed to call me back and give me the 4-1-1. I went to the club in an attempt to learn more in hopes of seeing if I could be what he needed and found him working over a hot-ass chick. I let some other Dom spank me in front of Gavin, and we haven’t spoken since. There! Every one of you has someone and I am the lone cat lady in this pitiful equation,” I gush in an over-emotional delivery, fat tears of frustration looming as I finally tell my friend what has been eating at me for weeks. It felt good to tell someone.

“Damn, Sor, I’m sorry. I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell me?” Sympathy returns to my dear friend’s face.

“Doesn’t matter. I will resume my shameless flirting, ensuring Daz’s bottom dollar.” I huff in disgust over my personal state and the idea of throwing myself at anyone else.

“I’ve never seen you like this. Call him,” he gently pleads.

“With what fucking number?” And why should I be the one to call him?

“How do you not have his number after all this time? Want me to get it?” he offers.

“How? Who knows? We are so wrapped up in one another when we are together I damn near forget my name. Forget it. How are you and Reed?” I deflect.

“We are great, thinking of spending Thanksgiving meeting each other’s families,” he admits with a tinge of guilt.

Thanksgiving is just around the corner; I hadn’t realized it was so close. “I really am happy for your, Z. That’s great, I mean it.” Truly, I do. Samuel is like a brother and I only want him to be happy.

“Thanks, L,” he whispers back as our bar starts to fill up.

“You ready for your event? It is just a few weeks away.” He squeezes in as our customers sidle up to the bar.

“Yeah, almost ready. Been using this time to take my frustrations out in the studio. “

“Good deal.”

We fall into a unified trance, working the crowd as we make drinks, wowing a few here and there. It isn’t all flips and tricks─ our guests would grow tired of that. Our positive and very friendly attitudes as well as remembering even the most insignificant details of our regulars coupled with the atmosphere and seemingly ‘safe’ environment Daz manifests for these well-off creatures has always been the hooking factor. A flip of the bottle or magic wave of fire provides an allure for new guests who will hopefully become members. I used to enjoy all of it very much. But, in the almost two weeks since my run in with Gavin at the dungeon, his glaring absence from my life has become painfully obvious and taints all that I do. A fact that pisses me off to no end. It doesn’t help that the group crowded around the bar are starting to get particularly special tonight.

“Yo, bar wench, two more of these concoctions, will ya?” a cocky suit calls out to me, hair slicked back and face pinched in a “get on with it, would ya?” appeal. He reeks of new money. His style and speak have no grace or eloquence; he has been overtly demanding and harsh all night to all the staff. He is too loud and boisterous, throwing his money around like his arse doesn’t stink. Bar wench is a step too far.

“All right, you wretched bar rat. Hold your horses!” I holler back.

“Excuse you? Do you have any idea who you are talking to?” He scowls at me as he leans over the bar and into my face. I cock my eyebrow and lean right back, unintimidated by him. “As a matter of fact, I do. An arrogant little shit who recently came into a rather large amount of money, so he now thinks he is entitled to come in here and throw around his pennies and stank ass attitude to validate his small wanker! I’ve got news for you, you ain’t shit and your money is nothing compared to those around you here, and you don’t see them acting like fools!” I seethe right back, unintentionally causing a scene as many of the guests around us have fallen silent, many pretending to look away while they hang on my every word.

One could probably hear a pin drop right now, even the DJ’s music seems to dim. The wanker’s face turns beat red and I see him haul back his hand to slap me. Samuel moves in slow motion to try to pull me out of the way, but I beat them both and punch the shit stain in the face with cat-like reflexes. The guy falls back on his ass, stunned and embarrassed in front of the hundred or so people in the private suite.