Chapter Six

It was odd to watch him snap on a mask when we exited the car. Him handing his keys off to the valet. The familiar nod the man doing door check gave him. His face was easy, seemingly just deciding to not have those tired lines etched into his face any more. Looping my hand over his arm again and somehow doing it without any motivation or deeper hunger. 

There was a cocktail hour and we sort of separated for that. There were people I knew here– people I could network with. And there were certainly people who wanted his ear. He nearly always had a knot around him. Someone nervously lingering on the edge to get a few words alone with him. 

He would surprise me by quite suddenly being by my side again. I don’t know how he found out that I was just drinking tonic water and a slice of orange but he did. Bringing me another drink as I went empty. 

I could tell what sort of business or conversation he was conducting by the other person’s face. Sometimes it was clearly just… the clean work. Somebody pigeonholing him and talking about scholarships. Donations to local sports teams. Funds going toward local businesses. But the people who waited to get him alone… They always had tight, shiny looking faces. Especially under the soft glare of gelled lights overhead. I could almost smell the sweat rolling off them. And he always wrapped up these conversations quickly. Mostly just handing off business cards by the looks of it. Presumably telling them to fuck off and call the Rod. 

There was supposed to be dancing for an hour before a sit-down dinner. I had considered slinking further away. I’d pretty much exhausted all my conversational partners. And kept getting roped into either boring financial conversations with finance bros or depressing conversations about animals. He was still busy. Moving easily across the ballroom, shaking hands, rarely smiling. 

He caught my elbow though, once again coming up behind me so quietly and unexpectedly I almost started away from him. 

“I need a break, Puppy,” he said. “Keep me busy dancing.”

He walked us to the dance floor, which was surprisingly full. I guessed the cocktails were actually taking effect. 

I hated how easily I fell into him. Hand on his shoulder, him taking my outstretched one. It was absolutely not the close dancing kind of thing. And still I wanted to rest my cheek against his shoulder. I caught his eye. 

“Bad?” I asked.

“The usual,” he said, turning us slowly. 

“Mmm,” I said. 

Surreptitiously sniffing him. Making note of everything about him. His calluses, how he smelt, how his shoulder felt under my hand and how terribly I wanted to slide my hand to the back of his neck and pull his face to mine. 

“Did you get new jewelry for our date?” he asked. 

I could tell by his tone he was on the brink of teasing again.

“Some old, some new,” I said, shrugging, looking up at him.

“I like your collar,” he said, dropping his voice. 

“Choker,” I corrected.

“No,” he said. “Collar. She’s a well-behaved little puppy who always wears her collar. I’ll get you one with a tag so even if you get lost, everyone will know who to return you to.” 

I felt my nails digging into his jacket. A sort of shudder moved down my spine and I turned my face from him so he wouldn’t see it. But he felt it. While my face was turned from him, he dropped his chin, bottom lip almost on the lobe of my ear.

“That’s right,” he said. “A good girl but I’m still going to put you on a leash. Keep you close by my side.” 

“I am your good girl,” I said, almost choking on it. Out of shock, and total brain-melting arousal. 

He nearly grunted, clutching my hand harder, hips briefly pressing into mine. If anyone was watching us closely, they would probably roll their eyes at how passé we were being.

“Should I get us a room here tonight?” he asked, quieter still, directly into my ear again. 

“I think you’d better,” I said, making eye contact with him. 

He nodded briskly, moving us into a less-obvious position. Back to just plain ballroom dancing. We finished out, and were escorted into the dining room. After he sat me at our table though, he excused himself. I was stupidly excited, picturing him going to the check in desk and getting keys. I didn’t even care if it was just the broom closet.

Dinner was surreal. Making conversation more boring than usual. Or more frustrating and less sincere, somehow. Even more bland than the usual getting-to-know-you social-event small talk. 

Also, it oddly felt that everyone knew him so the entire evening was a series of me being introduced by him. Which felt so backward. Everyone at our table was known by him. Similarly involved in high finance. Brokerage agents and public relations people and advisors. Several of them were on the same boards as him– mostly educational related things. He– or, to say, the Quinns– seemed heavily involved in scholarships, high school sports, internships and college athletics. 

He seemed cool, collected and kept the conversation rolling smoothly over the rather unspectacular dinner. I felt like I was vibrating– dashing toward the finish line of coffee and dessert to get at him. I sensed no similar hunger from him. 

Over desserts, they made their little speeches and solicitations. And after applause and everything, he snatched my hand from where it was laying in my lap.

“No more patience,” he whispered to me. 

“I certainly have none,” I agreed. 

“Let’s make our ungraceful exit then,” he said, clutching my hand harder still.

We said our quick goodbyes, nodding around the table, smiling. I felt impatient indeed, though, and he was better at playing the part than I. 

He took my arm again and when we got to the concierge desk he veered us hard to the right, toward the elevators. I heard my heels clacking wildly on the tile floor to keep up with his longer stride. I was hoping that the elevator would be empty. But of course it wasn’t. Someone got on with us on the ground floor. And though they got off before us, someone else got on. I wanted to be able to kiss him right away. But instead I had to stand a proper few feet from him. Shifting hip to hip and desperately keeping my eyes off his face. 

He took me by the elbow again when we reached our floor. I seemed to be floating off the carpeted hallway as he dragged me along.

“Slow down–” I started to say, worried about twisting my ankle in my shoes.

“Feel lucky I’m not carrying you under my arm to our room,” he said. 

I gasped, bit my lip and shut up. We reached our room. He unlocked it and shoved me through the open door. Enough that I stumbled a few steps into the room into pitch darkness. He caught me before I went down or got too far away from him. An arm around my waist, the other settling me back on my soles with a hand on my upper arm. He crushed me to him, kissing me for the first time. Hard, pulling the air from me, feeling like my lips were bruising under the onslaught. 

I gasped again, struggling in his arms until I stepped backward from him. Catching my breath, I heard his palm whickering on the wall until he found a light switch. Flipping it on and illuminating the room. 

I didn’t realize how I must have looked until I saw worry cross his face. My hands were up by my chin, chest probably heaving. And I felt pale instead of red now. He astounded me by dropping to a knee. Like a knight errant or going for a proposal. 

“Please,” he said, one hand out to me. “Please… Don’t be scared of me.” 

“Oh, no,” I said, going to him, taking his upraised hand in both of mine. “No, I'm not scared. I’m not. Just thrilled.”

“Good,” he said, standing swiftly and then rushing me. 

I almost giggled nervously– being lifted off my feet and forced toward the bed under his momentum. Clutching at him but being willingly moved along, tumbling onto the absurdly huge bed. 

He lay almost on top of me, propped up on his elbows, stripping off my jewelry. I was surprised and a little suspicious that he knew how to take off my earrings. Not even stumbling with the claw closures but tossing them toward the night stand opposite us. Stripping off bracelets impatiently. I reached behind myself to undo the clasp of the necklace.

“No,” he said. “That stays on. The rest comes off.” 

He hauled me up into a semi-recline to unzip my dress, and I tried to help by wriggling out of it. Half-undressed, he kissed me again. Thumbs pressing into my jaw, fingers digging in at my hairline, disrupting pins and the little gold baubles there. 

“Ever since I saw you in trouble,” he said. “I wanted to put you in trouble again.”

“Oh,” I said. Trying to catch even one full thought as they ran scattered like oil across my brain.

“Do you know what I mean?” he asked. But he was kissing over where his fingers had crushed me, along my jaw and chin, and I couldn’t focus. Resting my palms on the back of his head, disrupting his evening-out neat hair. 

“I think so,” I whispered, arching into him and trying to get more contact. 

“You might think so,” he said, thumb under my lower lip. “But you can’t possibly understand and I hate how you make me feel. You don’t know how… take-able you are. When I was thinking of you, I was picturing just… grabbing you. Swooping down and taking you with me. Sinking my teeth into you. Having you exactly as I want you.” 

I propped myself up and kissed him first. And this time it was gentle– long and we didn’t break for a long time.

“Don’t hate yourself for that,” I said. “Or you’d have to be disgusted by both of us. I want… I want your teeth in me just as badly as you want to do it. I like… I like how you fought me across the room and…”

It was too hard to find the words for what exactly it was that I wanted. Consensual destruction. To feel ruined and crying under his hands, and then for it to be over. To run from him and be caught. Cradled in the safety of his violence. So I tipped my chin up and nipped his bottom lip. I’d never put my teeth on someone, and it was intoxicating. 

Nuzzling his nose under my chin, he lifted my face. Resting the flats of his teeth over my pulse. I pressed a hand to the back of his head in answer. Sinking his teeth into me, I inhaled. In tandem, my hips lifted into his, animalish in asking for more.

Hooking his fingers under the collar he shook me a little.  

“Finish getting undressed,” he growled. 

I did, throwing things off the side of the bed with abandon, watching him brainlessly as he did the same. Tossing his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt. His tattoo was a choke chain around his neck, the end of the chain straggling to the center of his chest. When we were finished I reached for him again. Loving his weight as it fell on me, and holding him close with all my limbs.

“You’re making a mistake,” he whispered.

“I know,” I said, trying to draw him closer with my legs as he started kissing over my likely-bruised throat. “I don’t care.”

Grunting a little, he wrestled away from me. Flipping me over quickly, crushing my face into the pillows. I just raised my hips in answer, though. Thinking about my makeup smearing into these expensive linens. I reached behind myself, looking for him. Catching both my wrists in his free hand he pinned them to the small of my back. And then he was between my legs. 

“Last chance,” he said harshly, while I just spread my legs accommodatingly. “Tell me to stop. Tell me to stop, Puppy. I really need you to–” 

I shook my head under his punishing palm. He let up the pressure and I turned my face in the pillow. 

“I won’t,” I said. “Keep going. Don’t stop. Ruin me.” 

“Damn you,” he grunted, sliding himself between my legs. 

I angled for penetration but he just slid against me. For a long while he did that. Leaving me crying and panting into the pillow. It felt delicious but I wanted him inside me so badly. I’d been so aroused throughout dinner though that I was right on the edge. Riding his shaft, clit swollen against him, I came suddenly, surprising myself, crying out and muffled. 

“Now Puppy is ready to take it,” he said. 

Plunging into me before he even finished his tease. I was floating and impaled, most of my weight resting on my face by the feel of it. Him still suffocating me into the feathers, hands still pinned to my back. I kept trying to collapse flat to the bed, exhausted. He’d tug my arms, pulling me back onto him, almost punishing on every stroke. I could feel the strain in my shoulders and lower back. 

It felt good. I’d never been… used like this. Well, I’d had ineffective or boring or painful sex and that had certainly been being “used.” This just felt like an endlessly pulsing pleasure kind of usage. Just a slick thing riding under him. 

“Sweet little girl,” he said, dropping onto my back and crushing me into the mattress. “Who taught you how to take damage this well?” 

I cried out again, spasming around him. He clearly felt it, finishing violently right behind me. For a few seconds he lay heavily on top of me. Rolling off to one side he took me with him. I went willingly. Falling onto my side, tucking my face into his ribs. Both of us caught our breath. His hand passed over the back of my head over and over. Just brushing hair off my forehead and cheeks. I sighed and settled heavily into the mattress.

I finally felt wonderful. Really relaxed. Aches and pains in my joints melted away. Nibbling little anxieties in my brain blasted to oblivion. Irritation replaced with tenderness. With his free arm he reached for the light switch, plunging us into darkness again. I cuddled deeper, then pulled the blankets out as well. Internally, having a firm conversation with myself that we were not going to fall asleep. Just resting. Just getting back to normal. Wait until I felt like I was no longer oozing and flattened. 

I startled awake into darkness. Confused momentarily as to where I was until I felt his arm around me, felt his body hair under my palm. I couldn’t settle back down again. I sat up. Edging off the bed as silently as I could. Padding in the blackness toward what I was hoping was the bathroom. 

Of course it wasn’t, I walked into the closet. As I was fighting my way past coat hangers, the lights went back on.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Bathroom,” I said.

“Fine, then,” he said, waving his hand toward what I could now obviously see was the bathroom.

I hadn’t taken stock of our surroundings before. This was a suite. A whole sitting room space, floor to ceiling windows, a fireplace in the far corner. The bed so big it would fill my bedroom at home. Once in the bathroom, I took note of the soaking tub with jets. The basket of designer soaps and lotions.

Going back out to him, I found my underwear about ten feet away from the bed. Shimmying back into them. Wishing I’d worn nice lingerie instead of what I was wearing. I hadn’t known this was how my night was going to end, though. He watched me from the bed. When I lifted my dress off the floor, he snapped at me.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.

“Getting dressed,” I said.

“Why?” he snarled.

“To go home,” I said gently. “We have to go home.” “This isn’t a no-tell motel,” he said as I pulled the dress over my head. “We have it for the night.”

“Other people do. We don’t,” I said. 

He sighed. Reaching for me again. Looking simultaneously exhausted and glorious. Tattoo both dark and faded. Eyes darker for the overhead lights. 

“You’re right, you’re right,” he said heavily. “But a little longer… Just a little longer. I don’t know how long it’s been for you but I haven’t had someone beside me in so long and I was sleeping so well.” 

My hand stopped on my zipper pull. I nodded and took that off again. Crawling back into bed with him. Taking his face to my chest this time. And we fell asleep for a while longer.

I could tell it was almost dawn when we woke again. Still dark, but somehow a lighter feeling darkness. Previously it had been weighty. When I shook his shoulder, he didn’t argue. Just sat up. We got dressed in silence. He handed me jewelry, he zipped up my dress. 

We went out into the hallway. I felt like a creeping rat. It was a little after three and the hotel seemed entirely asleep. No carousing partiers, nobody making noisy sex, or watching television, just cocooned. We took the elevator down to the ground floor. He held up a “wait” hand at me in the foyer, pushing me toward a couch. Went out and retrieved his car. Came back for me. Handing me into the passenger seat again. All in silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable. Just mournful, or tired. Or perhaps both. Besides, the grayness of the early day was oppressive. I could already tell it was going to be a humid day. Perhaps even stormy.

We drove in silence. I finally reached forward and turned on the radio, but low. I didn’t want to think, so I just focused on the music. Whatever he’d last been playing.  

He pulled up outside of my house again. Turning off the engine and parking. Reaching for his door handle. I rested a hand on his knee to stop him. Both his hands went slowly back to the steering wheel.

“If you walk me up my steps, and leave me at the front door… Is that the last I’m going to see of you?” I asked.

He sighed, looking around like he was nervous. Not even nervous, just as though he couldn’t help but always be aware of who else was on the street with us. 

“I should,” he said. “I should leave you at your door. I should leave you alone. I should have left you alone.”

“I’m asking if that’s what you’re going to do though,” I pushed. “If I call you, will you ignore me? If I show up at your office after you don’t pick up my calls, are you going to have Lucky escort me out?”

I was surprised that even then he kept his hands sealed to the wheel in front of him. Bowing his head nearly until his forehead landed on the horn. 

“No,” he said, nearly too soft to be heard. “I won’t do that… Clearly I’m incapable.” 

“Good then,” I said briskly, scooping my clutch up out of the foot well. “Then you can walk me to my door now.” 

“So dumb,” he muttered.

“How dare you?” I said.

“I’m dumb. I’m the dumb one,” he said, opening his door.

He came over to the passenger side of the car and helped me out of the seat. Walking me up to my door. 

“I don’t like you as well when you’re playing at being a sad sack. This guilt-ridden, woe-is-me gothic hero is hardly as fun as the man who plays with me,” I said, leaning against the door. 

He finally looked me in the eye again. Holding it for a moment. Grinning viciously but briefly. Giving me that dangerous glinty face for the first time in a while. 

“I do like playing with you,” he mused. “I particularly liked our game last night.” “We should play it again,” I said. “Longer and harder and rougher. Go ahead and buy me that leash you were threatening me with.” 

I saw surprise cross his face and then he quickly put the expression away. Grinning at me wolfishly, running a finger over my gold choker.

“Well, all right then. Consider it done,” he said. 

“Good,” I said, turning to my door and digging for my keys.

“Of course… Discretion being necessary,” he said. Sounding serious again.

“Of course,” I agreed. “I don’t… No one needs to know. For so many reasons, nobody should know.” 

He started thumping down my steps. The tail of his bow tie sticking out from his jacket pocket. Boutonniere utterly destroyed. Hair falling into his face, his shirt partially unbuttoned. Turning back around as my door rattled open, he caught my eye.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

“You’re welcome,” I said.

When I got inside I instantly started stripping out of my formal clothes. Emptying my mostly discarded jewelry out of my purse. Getting into a hot shower. Then getting back into bed for a long nap. I slept well with him last night, but hardly for long enough. 

I got up and considered doing the chores I’d usually do on Saturday– those out-and-about chores. Groceries and whatever other nonsense arose. But I felt too good and relaxed. And somehow unwilling to be out in public. Like strangers would be able to see what had occurred last night on my face. So I just did some housework. Reading in bed. Making myself a massive and warm dinner. Thinking about his hands on me.