I haven’t done more than browse the listings since I broke things off with Karen nearly a year ago. I still have needs. My body craves the power of taking complete control over a woman, of bringing her to the absolute brink of her limits and letting her ride the wave back down with me. But I’ve fought back the urge. I don’t feel like I deserve the release, so I’ve forced myself to abstain all this time.
Karen was like all the women before her, but that was exactly why her death struck me so powerfully. I had tossed aside women countless times before, as if they were used up playthings. Once my interest faded, I removed them from my life and never looked back. I won’t do that again. Not ever again. I swore I wouldn’t step back into the scene until I thought I could be better. I’m still not sure if I’m ready to rise above my old habits, but I know the old hunger is getting so strong I can barely hold it back any longer.
I don’t know why I put myself through the misery of looking at the site anymore. It just lights up the fire and makes me crave things I don’t trust myself to give in to. I read the listings, look at the profile pictures, and remind myself why it’s still too soon to place a bid and get back into the life.
After a few minutes, I sigh, turning off the computer and standing. I need to get out of this office. It feels like I’m being suffocated by memories, desires, and old ghosts.
I open the door to my office and find Dina waiting for me. Her hair is pulled back in a severe bun and she’s eyeing me from behind thick rimmed glasses. “Mr. Pierce, do you have a moment?”
“No, actually,” I say, moving to pass her.
“It’s just that I wanted to know what you thought of the piece by Jerry-Anne Lee. It was one of the most incredible submissions I’ve ever seen. I wanted to--”
“I threw it in the trash. Really, Dina. I have to go.”
She stops short, a look of shock on her face as I leave her standing outside my office. I don’t enjoy being a prick, but I have too much on my mind right now to sugar coat anything. Maybe throwing the manuscripts away was a rash move, but it’s my fucking business. If she wants to question how I run it, she’s barking up the wrong tree.
“Mr. Pierce!” says Taylor, my assistant. “I have the report you wanted.”
I snatch the papers from Taylor, not slowing my pace and forcing him to nearly jog to keep up as I head for the elevator. “Thanks,” I say dryly before tossing the papers onto a nearby desk.
Taylor slows as I step into the elevator and hit the button for the garage.
Once the doors close and I’m alone I rake a hand through my hair. “Fuck,” I growl. This isn’t me. Yeah, maybe I can be a little bit of an ass when provoked, but I’m not the kind of guy who treats his employees like this. I just can’t get my fucking mind right lately. Maybe it’s just been too long since I’ve had a woman the way I need. Too long since I’ve let the force of my will shape and mold a woman’s desires, since I’ve brought them to their knees with the slightest touch. Since I’ve dominated.
I clench my fist, slamming it against the metal of the elevator as the conviction strikes me.
I’m tired of running from who I am. I’m not a coward. I’m finally be ready to try again. It will be different this time, though. That’s for damn sure.
I’ll never forgive myself for Karen. Never. But I can’t let what happened seep into my business too. I’ve spent long enough punishing myself for what happened. And the only way I can begin to move past it is to get back into the life. I’m going to place a bid. Soon. I’ll find myself a submissive, and I’ll work out the frustration and sexual tension I’ve been letting grow for close to a year now.
I lick my lips in anticipation. It has been so long. Maybe what I need is a first-timer. A BDSM virgin to train and mold into my perfect submissive. The thought makes me grin with predatory excitement.
Fuck. I’ve needed this so badly.
I’m about to leave the building when a man in a dark coat bumps into me, hard. I’ve always been solid though, and his attempt to knock me aside only sends him bouncing off me and into the wall.
“What the fuck?” I growl, advancing on him. I’m about to grip him by the coat when I see him casually flash a pistol tucked in the waistband of his pants.
I freeze, suddenly aware that this part of the lobby is largely deserted. But I’m not getting shot today. Fuck that.
I charge him and he moves to pull the gun free but I’m on him before he can, pinning his arms to his side against the wall.
“Who are you?” I yell into his face, squeezing his arms until his face contorts with pain.
“Fuck you,” he spits in a thick accent.
I punch him hard across the face, nearly breaking his neck with the force of the blow. He crumples to the ground, and I strip the pistol from his pants and kick it across the lobby.
“Hey, Steve,” I shout toward the security desk. “Get the cops down here to take this fucker in.”
I step out into the cold evening air, replaying the sound of the man’s voice again and again. Why the hell did it sound so familiar? And what was he planning?
3
Brianne
“What did you say this guy’s name was?”
“Jackson Pierce,” I say.
I’m lying face up on my bed, glaring at the ceiling in my dorm room. Lacey is on her bed at the other end of the room, playing on her phone.
“Wow,” she says, a few seconds later. “Have you seen him?”
“No,” I say. “Why?”
She gets up and comes to kneel by my bed, holding her phone out for me to see.
My throat goes dry when I see the picture. It’s a man in a suit walking down a staircase. It looks like a paparazzi shot. And he looks like a movie star. No. He looks better than a movie star. He has dark hair that’s cut short on the sides and longer on the top. But what captivates me are his eyes. There’s a deep darkness in them. A coldness. He’s the most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on and yet he looks so broken.
Prudish. Forgettable.
His words echo in my mind and I remember to hate him. “Yeah, he’s not bad,” I grumble.
Lacey looks at her phone again, quirking an eyebrow. “Uh. Not bad? This guy is like, Brad Pitt in “Fight Club” sexy. He’s like Thor-level sexy. You could spread him on a shoe and I’d eat it.”
“Spread him on a… what?” I ask, giving her a disgusted look.
Lacey sighs. “You know? That expression, like a sauce is so good you’d eat it off a shoe.”
“Okay, I just don’t think… forget it. The point is he’s an asshole. No matter how good he may look. It’s not like it matters anyway.”
Lacey purses her lips. “Hm. Well, I could cyber stalk him. Maybe you could find out where he gets his coffee or something and tell him off in person.”
I sit up on the edge of the bed, watching as she pulls up more search tabs. “Why would I want to do that?” I ask. “If anything, I just want to bury my head in the sand and pretend none of this ever happened.”
“You would want to do that because you’re a self-respecting woman who doesn’t let some guy determine her self-worth,” she says.