The Gate (Dark Path Series) (14 page)

Or…she could always call Max, ask to see him again. Was it too soon? There were so-called rules a woman should follow after having sex for the first time with a man, right? Shaking her head, she left her father’s home to climb the stairs to her apartment.

Perched on the top step, she took her cell out of her pocket, tapping her fingers on the touch screen. All she needed was to scroll down for Max’s number and she could call him. Why shouldn’t she? The ball was in her court.

He would give her the answers she wanted. He’d been so open about his childhood and brother’s death. Why wouldn’t he be the same about Page?

Ah, screw it
. She tapped the screen and held the phone to her ear. It rang once, twice….

“Hello, Miss Walsh. How are you this fine evening?”

She bit her lip, saying the first thing that popped in her head. “I need to see you as soon as possible.”

“That can be arranged.” He told her where she would find him and how.

Chapter Thirteen

He was a dick asking her to come see him at The Gate, but he did call a car to pick her up. Then she would see the other world he inhabited. He hoped she didn’t faint or end up in the ER because of a panic attack.

And tonight was the most crowded it had been in weeks.
Fuck.

Dropping his feet down from his desk, he opened a drawer where he kept a bottle of tequila. He grabbed his glass, poured enough to equal a healthy shot, and drank it. He leaned back in his chair, allowing the burn to calm him. He checked his watch—like he’d done at least five times in the last ten minutes—waiting for one of the bouncers to call him when Erika arrived.

“God, I hope I don’t scare the poor girl.” He dropped his head into his palms.

“Hope you don’t scare who?”

He looked up at Catherine, who shut the door and the pounding music behind her. She was in rare form tonight, decked out in the shortest, tightest skirt possible, an even tighter tube top with no bra, and spiked heeled boots covered in red rhinestones. Her makeup was extra garish, her multiple bracelets and rings completing her outfit.

“How many clients do you have tonight?” he asked.

She sat on the edge of the desk and grabbed the tequila. “One. Some guy wants to spend sixty minutes licking my boots and then have me fuck him in the ass with a strap on. Typical night. Fun times.” Saluting him with the bottle, she took a chug.

He sat up straighter, waiting for her to get whatever was bothering her off her chest.

She smacked her lips and set the drink down, but eyed it as though she planned to do another round. He snatched it away, shoving it back in his drawer.

She pouted. “You’re no fun, Maxwell.”

“You know not to get drunk while working.”

“Then what were
you
doing before I walked in? Waiting for the worm at the bottom of the bottle to appear?” With a weak laugh, she twisted one of her bracelets around.

“The woman I mentioned who I want to make my submissive is on her way here. I’m going to give her a tour, let her witness some of the sessions. See how she fairs.” He rubbed his chest where it stung. After Erika left him that afternoon, he’d been plagued with horrible heartburn. No matter how many antacids he chewed or cans of ginger ale he drank, he couldn’t get rid of the ache.

“Now this should be interesting.” Catherine swung one leg over the other, showing off her thong—a hot pink number that would have any man, or woman for that matter, panting in lust. She also had one of the best asses he’d ever seen. He could only imagine what her pussy must feel and taste like—not that he ever had the urge to find out. His stomach rolled. Thinking of her that way while he wanted Erika nauseated him.

“You look like you’re going to be sick. Does your new plaything mean that much to you?”

He couldn’t define the relationship between Erika and himself yet. Tonight was a test for both of them. He would push her, but not too much since she was still recovering from what they’d done together the night before. “I look sick? What about you? You’re twitchy, on edge. You wear your raunchy clothes and that clown makeup of yours when you want to send out a vibe to stay the fuck away. Is it Raymond?”

Standing, she paced back and forth, hugging herself then stopped, dropping her arms to her side.

He sprawled back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “You better tell me soon because in less than fifteen minutes my guest arrives, and I’ll be busy the rest of the night.”

“Raymond is threatening to come here to make me heel, or so he told me in a long, graphic phone message. To top it off, I have a twenty-one-year-old virgin who’s the heir to some big hotel conglomerate willing to pay me top dollar to beat him, degrade him, and de-virginize him.” She raised her finger in the air to bring her point home. “Plus, he’s a cutter, so I expect him to ask me to do that, too. Everything is so fucked-up. All I want to do is run away and hide.”

“Quite the clusterfuck.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” She kicked the front of the desk then plopped down on the small couch in front of the wall. “He’s out there right now, sitting at his normal spot, waiting for me.”

“Who, Raymond?”

“No, the other one. Bryan.” She lay back on the couch, crossing her one leg over the other.

“I can get rid of the boy. But Raymond? You’re on your own. Last time I tried to talk to him on your behalf, it didn’t go over well.” He rubbed his chin, remembering when he and the Frenchman spoke after Catherine had left him the first time. He had been accused of stealing her, and their discussion ended with the older man punching him.

“I know. I’m waiting for another text or voice message from him tonight.” Sitting up, she swept her hair behind her ears. “I’m thinking of staying with my parents for a few months.”

“You’re playing with fire.” His phone rang, and anticipation filled his belly, the tightness in his chest vanishing. “If I was Raymond, I’d never let you go.” He answered the phone.

The bouncer at the front door told him Erika had arrived. He thanked the man. Rising from his chair, he tugged at his shirt and swiped away the wrinkles from his pants.

“Who’s the lucky lady you’re going to shock tonight?” Catherine asked in a snide tone and cracked her knuckles.

“Erika. She’s Roger Walsh’s daughter.”

She slapped her knees. “You’ve got to be kidding me! What are you going to do when she finds out your plans for Walsh Publications after her father retires? You better hope she falls head over heels in love with you or you’re able to control her as her new master because when she finds out, she’s going to flip.”

“I haven’t decided if I want to acquire Walsh Publications. It’s become more complicated than I’d expected,” he grumbled as he headed to the door.

“It looks like we both have complications.” Lying back on the couch, she raised her leg high in the air, showing off too much flesh. He’d seen a great deal of her body in the past, so her teasing didn’t affect him at all. She was acting bratty and cranky, trying to make his temper rise.

“It's a good thing I’m not your master, or I would cane the shit out of you.” He opened the door. The music was deafening and the cries of the crowd outside reached a fevered pitch.

“You would use the cane instead of a whip on me? Is that what you’re planning to do with the innocent Miss Walsh, who’ll faint when she sees what a typical Friday night at The Gate is like?”

He shook his head, not amused in the least by her bitchiness. “Tonight, she’s a bystander. When you meet her, you’ll treat her with the upmost respect. Do not mention anything about my interest in her father’s company. If you do, I’ll call Raymond to invite him to take you away. Understand?”

She called him a nasty name and crossed her arms, but nodded in the affirmative.

“Take a few more minutes to get over whatever snit you’re in. If you feel the…boy is a nuisance, have him thrown out. I don’t want any problems or drama tonight.”

“There’s always drama here. Same old shit, just a different day.” Balancing on her elbows, she raised an eyebrow at him.

Shutting the door, he went to meet Erika, hoping she wasn’t hyperventilating. It was leather night, and most of the guests would be covered in leather or little to nothing at all.

***

She had never seen assless chaps on a man before, but there was a first time for everything.

Two men wearing chaps with some type of glow-in-the-dark paint on their nipples walked past her, stroking each other’s butts and kissing one another ravenously. When more people in different states of dress—or lack of—bumped into her, she moved off to the side near the wall. The dance floor was packed, the music too loud. The air was thick, muggy with stale body odor and sweat.

She was so not dressed for the occasion in her jeans and a purple Henley T-shirt At least she’d worn her black cable knit Ugg boots. Her throat tightened as she was boxed in. Taking out her inhaler, she tried bringing it to her mouth, but her hand shook too much.

“Miss Walsh, are you okay? You look like you’re going to faint.” The bald black man in a dark suit who’d phoned Max appeared at her side. He helped her toward the front where people in line waited to get in.

“I-I’ll be okay. Just need some fresh air,” she said, wheezing.

“Let me call Mr. Leon again.”

“Leon?” She took a hit from her inhaler. “Who’s that?”

“I’m Leon.” Max marched over to her, tilted her chin up, and examined her face. Cursing under his breath, he scooped her into his arms.

“What are you doing? Put me down!” She squirmed in his hold.

“My house, my rules. You’ll do what I want.” He nodded at the bouncer and strode through a set of doors near the coat check and down a hall.

“Where are you taking me?” She could breathe easier since the air wasn’t so dense, and his arms gave her a sense of security.

“To my office. I don’t want you to end up in the hospital,” he replied in a stiff tone, his face harsh, uninviting. It could have been a trick of the weak lighting, but his mouth was set in a straight line, and he held her too tightly.

She didn’t argue or complain. He didn’t seem to mind carrying her. Reaching another set of swinging double doors, he opened them, advancing into another hall. Flashing lights bounced off the walls. They passed a bar as they headed to a door in the far corner. He set her on her feet, and keeping his arm around her waist, he unlocked the door, ushering her inside.

The room had a desk, metal cabinets, some chairs, and a couch. He led her over to the couch, and she sat down. When he knelt on one knee, cupping her cheek, he surprised her.

“Are you better? Do you need water or juice?”

She patted his hand at his thoughtfulness. “I’m fine now. It was just a little overwhelming back there. I should have waited near the front where it wasn’t so crowded, but I was curious.”

“If you’re not ready, I understand. I can call you another car—”

She ran the pads of her fingers over his lips. “I want to stay. Now that you’re here, I’ll be okay.” She tapped the seat next to her. “Sit with me?”

“Yes.” He sat beside her, curving his arm around her shoulder. His mouth dropped over hers, giving her a heart-stopping kiss.

She moaned, growing damp as his tongue traced her lips. His hand swept over the front of her shirt then dropped to her lap where he cupped her. Resting her head on his shoulder, she tightened her legs around his hand. His fingers prodded.

“What a nice hello.” Breathless, she shuddered when his thumb dug in deep, right over her clit.

“I’m very happy to see you.” He licked the side of her throat, sucking softly.

She twisted in his embrace, wanting to get naked and have him take her until she screamed his name for everyone to hear. But first, she needed answers.

“Um, why did the bouncer call you Leon?” She bit down on her lip as he unzipped her jeans and inserted his hand in her panties. She opened her thighs wider, sighing when he cupped her without the covering of denim or fabric.

“Leon is my middle name. I wanted to be known as Leon here, not Max.”

Nipping her neck, he pulled her leg up higher around his hip and drove two fingers inside her. She seized the back of his head as he bore her down on the couch. With his teeth, he yanked up her shirt then sucked on her breasts through her bra.

“I’ve always had a fantasy of fucking a woman in my office. I’d bend her over my desk, fuck her from behind. Maybe in her ass.” He blew on her nipple, and she whimpered. “Would you let me, Erika? I’d rim your ass out. Lick you until you were dripping wet from cunt to ass.”

Rimming?
She had no idea what that was, but the way he described it, she was willing to try anything—even anal sex, a major taboo she never thought about doing before. She didn’t care if her ass was too big or not tight like most of the women he’d been with.

“Have you ever done that with any of your women before?”

“Anal or fucked them here?” He tugged down her bra cup and licked the tip of her breast.

Crying out, she climaxed. “Oh, God,” she moaned, her inner muscles milking his fingers.

He held her, worshiping her breasts with his mouth and tongue while she came down from her orgasm.

When she finished her release, she closed her eyes, covering her face with her arm. He tugged on her wrist, and she peeked over it. He smiled, keeping his other hand between her legs, his fingers still inside her.

“You’re beautiful when you come.” He gave her a kiss, and she combed her fingers through his hair.

“I owe you one. If you want, we can continue at your desk where you can…rim me. Is that what it’s called?”

He barked out a laugh and sat up. Removing his fingers from her, he licked them clean. She turned away, blushing.

“I forget how innocent you are when it comes to sex.”

She couldn’t argue with him there, but it still irked her. She might not be sexually experienced like him, but she wasn’t oblivious or a prude to certain acts, in particular, the ones he was willing to introduce to her.