Red Hots (4 page)

On
one side it was a standard professional business card. It had the name of the
store ‘Decadent Treats’ and the address, phone and fax numbers and the website.
There was also a logo in the center of it, similar to what had been on his tie.
A diamond shaped box with four candies, each filling a corner. His name was on
it, Masaun Hawkes, manager, co-owner.

She
liked his name. As a person who had to call many people by their names to the witness
stand or while they were there, she liked saying his name.

“Masaun
Hawkes.” It even rolled smoothly over her tongue. She thought she understood
where the Hawk part came from in his Dom Hawk title Emmalee had used.

However,
all of her scrutiny of the front of the card was her way of delaying looking on
the back of it.

Taking
a breath, she twisted her wrist to the side and flipped the card so she could
see the back.

CALL
ME. 757.555.2163.

That
was it. No name. No message. Just two words and his number, like he was giving
her a direct order or command.

Disappointment
slid down her spine like a chip of ice on a hot day, dissolving into an ache
low in her belly. For preservation purposes, she pushed that away.

“The
nerve of this guy.” She was of a mind to crumple it up and toss it in the
trash. But she’d promised Emmalee she’d at least try. That meant calling him
and seeing what he wanted, but that was as far as she’d be willing to go.

But
not tonight. The other thing she’d promised her friend was that she’d go home.
It was a few minutes before ten and she had a big day tomorrow. She would need
rest before jury selection started.

Red
Hots were not her type of candy. She did not care for spicy things as much as
she hated the unexpected. Masaun Hawkes was an unexpected entity in her life at
the moment. Because of that, he bewildered her.

Shoving
the red candy pieces back into their box, she pulled a piece of tape and sealed
the flap down then tossed the box into her purse. She wasn’t sure why she didn’t
chuck it into the trash beside her desk, but somehow it, like Emmalee’s card,
was a part of her birthday. The only reminder that she’d turned thirty-three
today.

Her
friend’s card went in next. After that she shoved the thick file she would need
tomorrow into her briefcase and locked up the other items dealing with this
trial and others into a cabinet in her office. Finished shutting down her
computer and turning off the light, she left her office.

On
the way out of the building, she spoke to Mr. Hendley, a member of the county
cleaning crew that maintained their floor then left.

She
knew that her curiosity was too piqued for her not to give in and call Masaun
Hawkes, but she would do it on her time. She’d never liked taking orders from
anyone and she wasn’t going to start with some bold, too-confident man. No
matter how sexy he was.

He’d
soon discover this would be done her way or not at all.

~YH~

“Ohhh…ahhhhhhhhh.”

Kindle
couldn’t recall the last time she’d masturbated. Like everything else, desire
didn’t fit into her schedule therefore there was no cause or need to get
herself off.

Until
Masaun Hawkes. The damn man had not only invaded her office but had stepped
into her dream and turned it into a fantasy, an erotic one.

Even
now as her body hummed with satisfaction and fading tremors of pleasure, she
wanted to scream in frustration. Aggravation that he was creeping into her mind
and annoyance that unlike all the times she’d brought herself to an orgasm in
the past, this hadn’t been enough. She was sated…but not. Dissatisfaction
saturated her blood.

Moving
the hand on her sex to her stomach and pausing in the act of pinching her
nipples with the other, she lay there in bed and stared up toward the ceiling.
It was dark in her room, since she did not have a light on and the sun had yet
to rise. In a few minutes, her alarm would go off, and she would need to get up
and get ready for her day and the first phase of the trial—jury selection.
However, not yet.

Her
mind was calm and she was at peace for this sliver of a moment in time. The
only thing invading her thoughts was the image of Masaun’s face. With her brain
still slightly muddled from her climax, she did not attempt to fight the image
and bury it in the cavernous place in the back of her mind where all things she
refused to allow time for went to die.

Why
can’t I keep my thoughts from him? she wondered.

No
one else had ever shaken her to the core. No other man had made her want to
strangle and kiss him at the same time. Maybe it was Masaun’s sensual mouth that
drew her. The man had slim, firm lips that taunted her. Teased her into
imagining them on her mouth, her neck, her breasts and…

She
sighed, long and slow. Her body started to spark to renewed desire. Something
she did not have time for. No way. She especially could not allow herself to
even get stimulated again and then be forced to fight those emotions all day
when she had more important things to do and consider.

Once
I talk to him again. Recall just how bold and arrogant he is in person, I’ll be
able to cut him down to size with a firm, direct and resounding no. No date…no
anything else he may have on his mind.

“He
is
not
going to be a problem for me.” She tossed the covers off her body
and rose to a sitting position on the side of her bed. Her satin night gown fell
back into place around her hips from the bunched position it had been in while
she caressed herself. The warm glow still settled low in her belly did not
allow for her to be angry with herself for giving into the temptation the dream
had caused.

Rising,
she went into the bathroom and turned on her shower. A quick shower would
soothe her frayed nerves. In her lap was the biggest trial of the year.
Possibly the most watched and televised trial happening in Virginia since the
DC Sniper. Those two men had terrorized gas station customers for weeks in
three different states. Now she was taking lead in prosecuting this child
murdering sex offender that had terrorized parents of kindergarten age children
in the Tidewater, Peninsula and Southside areas for months.

Nine
months ago, when he was captured, the entire state had breathed a sigh of
relief. Now, it was in her hands to do this case right. Standing in the shower,
she pressed a hand to her stomach attempting to calm the queasiness inside. Her
belly seemed to flip a few times beneath her palm, and even if it was her
imagination, she could feel the responding quivering in her body.

Don’t
mess this up, Kindle.
She could hear her father’s voice in her head. Her parents had divorced when
she was seven and her father, a college provost in Williamsburg, had gotten
custody. Her mother, Beatrice, who had met and fallen in love with a fellow
real estate agent, did not even put up a fight for her. Before the ink was
placed on the divorce papers, her mother and new lover had moved to Minnesota
and immersed themselves in the booming housing market.

She
loved her father for ‘wanting’ her, but the man was tough. He’d never remarried
and had divided his attention between his college responsibilities and ensuring
his daughter succeeded. Every achievement could only be topped by the next, and
the next, and the next one after that.

 Closing
her fist tight, she dug her short nails deep into the palm of her hand.
Get
it together. Get it together.
She chanted. Focusing on the small amount of
pain in her hand, she blocked out everything else and allowed her emotions to
be smothered, snuffed out of her mind.

This
empty, emotionless place was where she needed to reside. Where she had to be in
order to be the best—the barracuda of the courtroom.

Feeling
more like herself, she bathed in a brisk, efficient manner and got out of the
shower. Twenty minutes later, she was dressed, had her room placed in an
immaculate state and had her briefcase in hand as she headed out the front door
of her condo.  The sun had barely begun to peep on the eastern horizon as she
backed her car out of her parking space and drove to her habitual coffee shop
for her sesame seed bagel and chai.

This
was her world, her existence. Neat. Routine. Orderly.

If
she planned to maintain her life just as she liked it, as she’d been raised to
keep it, then Masaun Hawkes had to become a non-factor to her. It was the only
way.

CHAPTER four

“Hey,
Masaun—”

Masaun
held up a single finger to Sweet as he stood in the doorway of his office and
continued to stare at the ringing phone on his desk. He knew who it was and he
had no intention of answering it, but he wanted to count the rings until they
stopped. After the third ring, it stopped. Then he waited to see if the message
light would begin to flash; it didn’t.

Lowering
his hand, he gazed at his brother. “What’s up?”

Taking
two steps into the room, Sweet frowned. “Why didn’t you answer the phone? We’re
not dodging bill collectors or something, are we?”

Masaun
allowed one eyebrow to rise. “No.”

Titling
his head toward the phone, Sweet asked, “What gives?”

“I
know who it is. This person is attempting to circumvent my instructions. I’m
not having it.”

“Ah.”
His nod was slow. “Evidently they don’t know you very well.”

“If
I have it my way, they will soon.” Masaun exhaled. He would deal with the
person on the other end of the line shortly. He focused on his brother. “Did
you need me for something?”

“No.
Just wanted to say I’m headed out for a minute. I had a few batches of
chocolate that didn’t come out as well as I’d have liked, but instead of
wasting them, I’m going to take them to the shelter.”

He
kept his gaze on his brother’s face, attempting to read his eyes. Sweet’s face
was a blank, stone mask as always, so Masaun knew he’d get nothing from there.
However, the eyes always told those things people tried to hide. Unable to
clearly decipher what was there, he asked, “Why don’t you just have Hanson take
care of it?”

Sweet
shrugged. “I have some candy setting up, so I have a little time on my hands
before I can work with it. So, I’ll do it.”

“Okay.”
Masaun still held his brother’s gaze, waiting for him to tell him truly why he
felt the need to leave the shop.

“All
right. I’ll be back in an hour or so.” So nothing more, Sweet turned and left
the office.

A
man had a right to his own privacy, Masaun told himself. Especially his
brother. Sweet was a Master and his own man. It had been over twenty years
since his younger brother needed him for guidance. Yet he still worried.

After
seeing that Sweet had pulled the office door to, leaving a small crack like
Masaun liked it, Masaun lowered his gaze to the phone.

Picking
up the receiver, he went back to the last number that came in and wrote it down
then pressed the call button.

“He—llo?”
The sultry voice on the other end was hesitant.

However,
it still caused an immediate response in his body; as if the person who
answered had reached through the phone and stroked up along the inside of his
thigh—his cock started to rise.

“That’s
not the number I told you to call.” He kept his voice even, controlled, not
giving away any of the emotion swelling up inside of him.

“Masaun.”
It wasn’t a question. She’d recognized his voice instantly. “How do you have my
number?”

That
knowledge had his dick rising higher. “Caller identification. The phone in my
office is equipped with it.” It also did not escape his notice that her number
came up as Commonwealth Courthouse, which meant she had called him from her
work phone. Another way to keep a personal distance between them.

“Damn.”
He heard Kindle mumble low as if she’d moved her mouth away from the phone.

He
understood what she’d been attempting to do. Evidently, she had wanted to call
him, possibly to find out more about him. Or perhaps she had not thrown the box
of candy and his card in the trash the moment he walked out of her office, but she
had opened it, and decided to call the store and disregard the number on the
back. That thought, even with her disobedience, had him shifting in his seat
and heat building at the base of his spine.

“Back
to my original statement, Kindle. This was not the number I told you to call.”

“This
wa—”

“Did
you get my message?” He cut her off. Wanting to hear only a single-word
answer—hopefully the correct answer.

She
paused. Her end of the line went silent and he could imagine her clenching her
teeth, not wanting to give her answer.

“Yes,”
she finally responded. She did not add to it, just waited on the other end.

Even
though this was only their second interaction, he understood certain things
about her. Kindle either wanted or needed control of the things and people in
her life. That was why she had called the store, only allowed it to ring a few
times and ended the call before the answering machine could even pick up. She
wanted this to be done on her terms.

However,
it would be done on his. He was not put off by her stubbornness or her
determination to maintain control of their interaction, but turned on. If one
day she trusted him with dominance over her, it would give him immense pleasure
knowing it was rare for her.

“I’m
going to hang up. I want you to call me back right way.”

“I
don’t have time—”

He
hung up before hearing what she was attempting to say. It did not matter. As a
Dom, he never tolerated excuses. What he said was done, period, or there was a
consequence.

Shifting
his seat slightly to the left, he began working again on inputting the order
request for the week.

Ten
minutes later, his cell phone rang. On the third ring, he pulled it from his
pocket and answered it after the fourth.

“Hello.”

“Hello,
Masaun. This is Kin Langston. I got your message on your card so I’m calling
you.” There was no hesitation in her voice, but her words were clipped.

However,
she had called him back, regardless of the pride it may have cost her.

That
made him smile. “Yes, Kindle. I’m glad you did. I believe I have something to
offer you.”

“Such
as?” There was a doubtful tone to her soulful voice.

“I
don’t care to discuss it over the phone. How about we meet tomorrow evening—an
early dinner?”

“You
know, Masaun.” She exhaled and he easily picked up on the tension in her voice.
“I really don’t have time right now for dates—”

“Kindle,
I don’t recall asking you for a date. I’m sure you have discussions over food
all the time with men that you aren’t dating.” He was using semantics, playing
with her. The fact that he was seriously attracted to Kindle, and in most
instances he would classify what he was offering her as a date, it would not be
with her. If he wanted to progress with Kindle, he would have to start in an
area she was comfortable, otherwise he could see her bolting and heading for
the hills. He could tell from the extreme organization of her office that she
liked things to have order. Relationships were messy by nature.

“That’s
true. So, you’re suggesting we meet in a public place for food and a discussion
that could be beneficial to me?”

“If
you prefer a public place then I have no qualms about that. And let’s say it
would be
mutually
beneficial to us both.” Because if he ever got the
opportunity to have Kindle submitting to him and apply a paddle or flogger to
her lush ass, the enjoyment he would receive would be like alcohol to his
system—all consuming.

“Okay.
I’ll meet you at Croc’s on Nineteenth Street?”

A
smile tugged at the left corner of his mouth. She was agreeing, but she wanted
him to know she was calling the shots. He’d allow her to believe it, for now.
“Perfect. I’ll see you at five thirty.”

“Well,
I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Goodbye,
Kindle.”

“Bye,
Masaun.”

~YH~

Kindle
wanted to kick herself. Pushing back from her desk, she rose from her chair and
moved around in front of it and stopped, not allowing herself any other steps.
Pacing was for people who could not control themselves. Instead she stood there
squeezing her hands into fists, focusing and breathing.

She
recognized the reason for the disappointment swelling inside her. It had not
been her intention to end up with a date, or non-date with Masaun, but to
fulfill her promise to Emmalee and call him. Disregarding his command to call
what she assumed was a personal number for him, she had taken it a step further
and driven to her office to make the call. Treating Masaun Hawkes as she would
any other business associate.

However,
he was not and this was not business at all. He had even thrown out a bold
challenge when he hung up on her because she had called his office.

“That
damn man. He is insufferable.”

Then
why are you going on a date with him?

“Not
a date!” she argued back at herself, a sure sign she was only a few thoughts
and actions away from the Looney Bin.

She
did not know how to categorize her association with Masaun. She had to be
honest with herself and recognize that she was very interested in discovering
what he was proposing between them.

Sex
. Her body screamed.

It
seemed that since she had pried open the lid to her own sexual Pandora’s Box,
she was unable to seal it again. Every available moment her mind, and life, was
not consumed by her current case, it was wandering off to the secret area she
had relegated thoughts of Masaun Hawkes to.

During
the exhaustive two-week jury selection process, she had not had the energy to
fight her fantasies about him at night. The second morning after meeting him,
she had refused to give in to her urge to masturbate and all day long she had
been edgy and cantankerous.

Her
co-counsel, Simeon Duff, an ex-boyfriend, had mentioned she seemed off her game
and tense.

Every
day since, she had ‘taken the edge off’ in the morning before rising from bed.
Since she woke fully aroused by the erotic dreams of Masaun, it took her only a
few moments before she was quivering between the sheets.

Even
having orgasmed twice that morning, just the sound of his voice had her sex
pulsing and her knees feeling unsteady. There was no need for her to slip a
hand into her slacks to discover if she was aroused, because the wetness from
her sex had completely saturated her pants at his “hello.”

No
man should have such an intensely erotic husky voice—low and controlled.

Exhaling
loud and slow, she opened her hands and eyes. Glancing down at her palms, she
could see the evidence of the stress in the bruising in her palms. Since
college, she had soaked her hands at night in Epsom Salt before bed to remove
the soreness and speed up the healing process if there were any wounds. During
exam time in college and her first year practicing law had been the worst times
for her.

It
was not that she did not know her job. She ate and breathed the law, but she
had to get things right the first time and execute her job to the best of her
ability, every time.

“Kin,
the team is gathered in the conference room. Whenever you’re ready.” Chris
Ricks was her researcher. He had assisted her on the second case she had tried
as one of the Assistant Commonwealth Attorneys and had located a past legal
precedent that had been integral in her winning the case that everyone had
assumed would easily end in a win for the defense due to all the screw-ups that
had happened in the police investigation strategies. One overzealous cop could
easily tear a case wide open, but Chris had come through like a good luck
charm.

“I’ll
be right there. Let me get my notes.” She lifted her chin up a notch and
smiled. This was what she did, found center.

She
still had twelve hours before she needed to deal with Masaun and once she heard
him out and turned him down that way of distraction would be over and closed
down. For good.

~YH~

The
Dollhouse was a beehive of activities on Friday nights. Most nights there were
people in the two-story brick warehouse located in a more secluded part of the
oceanfront. It wasn’t hidden, but from the outside it appeared to be nothing
important, possibly an industrial building of some sort. However, within its
walls it was electric—from the music playing overhead, the discussions, the
cracking of whips, to the smacking sound of flesh being struck by some object.
This was Masaun’s second home.

Even
if at times he felt more like a ghost between the walls than like he was
actually present, in his soul anyway. To be a trainer required him to be
attuned both physically and mentally. If there was a day where he could not
separate his mind from the stress, as it had been when he first became a part
of the lifestyle, then he would come to The Dollhouse and train. There was too
much of a risk to injure someone by not being observant enough if a Dom was
missing cues from his sub.