The Gate (Dark Path Series) (8 page)

He stuck his hand in his pocket, clutching his cell phone. It gave him a sense of calm to know he had it. But out of respect for the dead, he’d shut it off. He didn’t want to be bothered by the outside world.

“Did Daniel call you?” She rose, wiping her palms on her legs. Streaks of dirt stained the denim.

“We talked last night.” He started up at the murky sky. A raindrop splashed on his cheek. “He shocked the shit out of me when he told me he went to Sunday Mass to light a candle in Cameron and our father’s honor.”

She raised her eyebrows. “When’s the last time you were in a church?”

“I think the day I was baptized.” He rubbed the back of his neck. His entire body was stiff, and he had a slight pounding behind his eyes that had been there since he woke up. All he wanted to do was go back to bed.

“You look like you’re ready to drop. Why don’t we sit for a few minutes?” Taking his hand, she led him to a wooden bench.

“It might rain soon. It’d better if we sit in the car.” He indicated his silver Jaguar.

Catherine smiled. “You just want to show off you new baby. What is it with men and their cars? The rain won’t melt us.” She inhaled, rolling her shoulders. “The air here smells cleaner, fresh.”

“It smells cleaner because we’re away from the smog of the city.” He sat down.

She joined him. “Shit,” she whispered, wincing as she shifted around.

“Your ass still hurts?” he asked, concerned but also pleased.

“Stop being such a cocky SOB. It’s not because of your heavy hand that my ass still stings.” She set her elbows on her knees and cupped her chin in her palms. “I met with Raymond for lunch on Sunday. I told him I still needed space. He acted as if he was okay with that even though he keeps texting me and leaving these long phone messages. I think he’s doing it on purpose because he knows how much I get off on his sexy accent.” She faced him. “He invited me back to his place to talk. He didn’t order me like he usually does, but was sweet as could be. Against my better judgment, I went with him. As soon as he shut his front door, he took out my collar and told me to get naked.”

“And?” he asked when she didn’t continue.

She stared down at her lap. “I-I tried to leave but he wouldn’t let me. The next thing I know, he’s carrying me up to his bedroom. He pushed me onto the bed, cuffed my arms and legs, and then starting beating me with a cane until he came all over me. I told him to stop, but he wouldn’t. He used his hands and mouth until I begged him for more. Instead of sex, he stuffed me in both ends—”

“Jesus, why didn’t you use your safe word?” He pulled her in for a hug.

Her tears splashed the side of his throat. “I didn’t want to use my safe word. I enjoyed every degrading minute of it! Right before he used the gag ball on me, he asked if I had anything to say. I told him no. That was my final out. He knew it, but even though I didn’t say it, he still gagged me. Then he used his palm instead of the cane, thrashing my ass and back where I already had welts. I was stuffed beyond belief and couldn’t come. I never found my release, but he had a grand old time climaxing and marking my body with his cum. When he finished, he untied me, took those instruments of torture away, and ran a bath for me. He washed me then put me to bed but didn’t join me. He said it’s his way of showing me how much he missed me. I was his, and no matter how many times I leave him, I’ll always come back to him. He left me unsatisfied, aching from my head to my toes as well as in my heart.” She sucked in a sharp breath. “Why am I so fucked up?”

Her sobs tore at his heart, but there was nothing he could do. Catherine was well aware what she’d gotten involved with.

“I warned you not to go through with the collaring ceremony, but you wouldn’t listen.” Nudging her chin, he wiped away her tears. “It’s as much a binding contract as a marriage from centuries ago.”

“When the husband had complete ownership of his wife and could do whatever he wanted to her?” She sighed. “I’m fucked. Shit, I’ve been fucked up since I came out of the womb. Even when I was with Cameron, he would—” Biting her lip, she shook her head.

“What you two had is not even in the same category as what you have with Raymond. You can tell Raymond no and set up boundaries. Even though he might try to force your hand, you can tell him to stop, with one word. Your safe word. You could never do that with Cameron.” Although his brother was dead, he could kill him all over again for what he put Catherine through.

“I just don’t know anymore. They say the cycle of abuse is never ending. Maybe that’s why I allow Raymond complete control over me.”

“There’s one final way to end things with him. You find a new master. If you want, I can become yours, in name only, if it will help free yourself from him.”

“I can’t do that to you. One day, you’ll want the same type of relationship Raymond and I have. You’ll find that woman you love who’s willing to sacrifice herself for your happiness, and you for hers.” Standing, she slapped his shoulder. “Plus, you’re one kinky, fucked-up motherfucker of the first order. Thanks for the offer, but I’ll pass.” Bending over, she touched her toes, groaning. “If it comes down to it, I can always skip town, disappear to parts unknown.”

He snorted. “Hopefully it won’t come to that.”

She lifted her face to the sky. The rain started coming down in earnest. “I’m going to take a walk. Do you mind?”

Rising, he moved under the tree next to the bench. She might not mind getting wet, but he did. “Take the time you need, but don’t expect me to carry you to the car if you get ill because of the nasty weather.”

“You’re one big ball of confusion, you know that? You have no problem getting naked and going to town on women, sometimes even with their boyfriends or husbands who come to The Gate looking for some sort of relief or salvation. Or walking on floors where your shoes stick because of all the cum that’s been spilled over the years, but you can’t bear a little rain?”

The disappointment on her face amused him, but he kept quiet.

“You’re zoning me out, aren’t you?” She kicked at the grass.

“It shouldn’t come as a surprise to you.” Cupping the back of her head, he kissed her forehead. “Go take your walk. I’ll be here unless it starts pouring. Then I’ll be in my nice warm car, listening to music.”

“Rocking out to Genesis’ Greatest Hits?” Her mouth twisted. “What’s your obsession with that music?”

“I’m a child of the eighties. At least I don’t listen to some of those pre-pubescent boy bands you enjoy.” He shuddered in disgust, thinking back to how she forced him to listen to some ear-splitting teenie bopper’s album on their drive to the cemetery.

She laughed. For the first time all day, she smiled, the lost look in her eyes disappearing. “Our musical tastes always clashed. Just like the type of leather we enjoy wearing or the size and width of the butt plugs we use to make us come.”

Nothing she said shocked him anymore. “Go take your stroll in the rain.”

She tucked her damp hair behind her ears and, with a wink, walked away. As he pulled out and powered up his phone, he kept an eye on her until she disappeared behind the stone vaults.

His cell chirped from two voice messages left from Alden. While he listened to them, another call came in. He didn’t recognize the number and almost let it go to voice mail, but something told him to answer.

“Hello?”

“H-hello, Max? Um, it’s Erika Walsh. You gave me your number. I’m not sure if you remember me—”

“Yes, Erika, how are you?” Straightening, he wiped away the rain dripping down the back of his neck. The skies cleared, and he strode to his car.

“Not bad. Listen, the reason I’m calling is because I want to see you again. I have a proposition I’d like to discuss with you.”

He almost dropped his phone. He would have never expected her to use the word “proposition”. If she didn’t sound so nervous, he’d assume she was looking for a good time. He wouldn’t mind dribbling a bottle of wine on her and licking the red liquid off her chest and from between her legs that would mix with her release—

“Max?” A pause. “Are you there?”

The front of his pants tented. “Yes, I’m here. What type of proposition?”

She cleared her throat. “I’m not comfortable talking about it over the phone. If you’re not doing anything tonight, would you like to have dinner with me? To talk about the proposition that is. A business proposition.”

Her hesitant voice wreaked havoc on his senses, triggering his cock to lurch. He wasn’t certain he could keep his libido in check like he had with her the two previous times. Tonight, he would change the dynamics of their relationship, test the limits of this virtuous woman’s unexplored desires.

Catherine sauntered toward the car, the rain having soaked her clothes to her body. He spoke to Erika. “Give me the time and place. I’ll be there.”

Her breath rushed through the phone, and while she gave him the information, he cupped himself, rubbing his thumb across the head of his cock even though his slacks stopped him from experiencing full pleasure.

By the time he said their goodbye, Catherine had climbed into the car. He grinned, primed for what was sure to be an unforgettable night.

Chapter Eight

Erika picked a restaurant halfway between both of their homes.
All this time, we’ve lived fifteen minutes apart and we never bumped into one another
. Yes, Manhattan was a big city, but somehow she and Max had never met.

There weren’t too many diners since it was still early, but the rain could have been responsible. It was awful out, the weather forcing her to splurge on a cab. When her dad had called, asking her to go out for dinner, she lied, saying she was meeting friends.

Well, it was more like a small fib. The meeting was with
a friend
. Single. But would he be open to a friendship after she asked him if he’d let her interview him for her column? Even if he didn’t have some sort of pet, perhaps the story could be spun in a way that would work. Maybe he had plants?

Maybe I could use the angle that he has a favorite plant he treats like a pet.
She dropped her face into her palms.
That’s ridiculous!

The door opened, and she sat up. A man closed his umbrella.

Max.

Erika went to twirl her hair but then dropped her hands on her lap. She wouldn’t show her nervousness. When he spotted her, he walked toward her, his gait reminding her of a leopard hunting its prey. He never took his eyes off of her.

A jolt zipped down her front, landing between her legs. She’d never seen a man look sexier in a trench coat, gray slacks, and dark green button-down dress shirt.

Maxwell Crawford was delicious sex on a stick. There was no use denying it. Her inner bad girl pushed her to do very naughty things with the man. But how, now that she was obligated to remain professional in order to write an article about him?

“Hello, Miss Walsh.”

Heat flooded her stomach over his sinful voice. “Hi, M.L. Th-thanks for taking time out of your busy schedule to m-meet with me.” She smiled, hoping he didn’t notice her stammering.

Frowning, he sat down across from her.

Oh shoot, he must think I’m a dork!
She wanted to crawl into a ball and die.

He took off his coat, contemplating her the entire time. “My business associates and acquaintances call me M.L. My friends call me Max.”

“What would you like me to call you?” She wiped her damp palms on her legs.

“Please, call me Max. I’d like for us to be friends.”

The laser sharp look in his eyes had cleared to a more yielding, welcoming expression.

He’s so beautiful when he smiles.

His mouth dropped into a straight line. “What’s the matter? You don’t want us to be—”

“Oh no!” She winced over her loud response. Breathing through her nose, she calmed down. “I’m just surprised you want us to be friends since you’re such a private man. I’m not the type of person who runs in your circles.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “I’m very discreet and selective when it comes to the people I associate with. But you insult me by saying you’re not important enough for me to have a relationship with. Please, don’t belittle yourself again while in my presence. It displeases me immensely.”

She shut her mouth, giving a jerky nod. No other man had ever left her so off center, yet so alive.

A waitress came over for their drink order. Wanting to keep a clear mind, she asked for an iced tea while Max ordered a sparkling water. Behind the bar, one of the staff fiddled with the stereo. A song she didn’t recognize came over the sound system.

When they were alone again, she reached for her portfolio. “I hope you don’t mind if I treat our talk more like a professional—”

In the time she retrieved her portfolio, a very different Max had emerged. Gone was the smoldering, overconfident, pretentious man, and in his place was a weary, troubled individual. While he stared ahead, his cheek twitched.

“Are you okay?” Reaching across the table, she tapped her pinky on the side of his hand.

He jerked, inhaling sharply.

“You seem…bothered. Was it something I said?” she joked, keeping her voice light.

He wiped a palm down the front of his face. “I apologize. The song playing was my mother and brother’s favorite. They both had the most amazing blue eyes. When I was younger, she would sing that song to him, Elton John’s
Blue Eyes
. My older brother Daniel and I would hold hands, and with Cameron in the middle of us, we would sing to him.” A small, sad smile appeared. “The song just gave me a shock. Today is the anniversary of his death. You called while I was at the cemetery visiting his grave.”

Stunned, she was uncertain what to say, so she listened to the lyrics about a clear blue sky and being watched over.

“It’s a beautiful song.” She pulled her hand away, but his fingers grasped hers.

“Isn’t it? Whenever I hear the song, which isn’t often, I think back to those times when my mother was still alive. She used to dance with us around our brownstone in Brooklyn before my father moved us to Manhattan.” He closed his eyes. “That was around the time she was diagnosed with cancer.”

Her heart thumped hard, and tears filled her eyes in sympathy for the man and the loved ones he’d lost. “I’m here for you if you want to talk.”

He opened his eyes. Approval filled his face, that familiar spark in his eyes reappearing. “I would like that. I don’t have many people I can confide in.” He rubbed his jaw where a five o’clock shadow had grown in.

She ignored the way her body reacted to him stroking his chin or how his scruff must feel. “Now is not the right time to discuss business with you. We can reschedule—”

“I don’t want to be alone. I would like to continue our discussion, but I’m not in the mood to be surrounded by strangers. You might grow antsy with more people coming in to dine. I would hate for you to have a panic attack. How about we get take out, go back to my place, and eat there?” He gave her a coy stare. “I also have a wonderful Bordeaux I’ve been meaning to open. I’d love to share it with you.”

A series of emotions swept over her. First sympathy then giddiness and the last admiration. He was so kind to think of her in such a way, knowing her phobia. The fact he remembered impressed her. She would love to see where he lived, what the inside of his home was like. Perhaps she’d gain more insight on the man she had a connection with.

“That would be great. Would you want to get Chinese, Mexican, or something more along the lines of home cooking? I’m open to anything.” She grabbed her purse, ready to take out her wallet to pay for her drink. But he beat her to it, dropping a twenty-dollar bill on the table.

“Do you eat sushi? There’s a great place near my building.”

“Yes!”

Rising, he put on his trench coat, and a piece of his hair fell over one eye. Her hands twitched to smooth it into place. Perhaps someday she would comb her fingers through the rich, thick-looking strands.

Grabbing his umbrella, he held out his hand. “I’ll protect you from the storm outside.”

“I know you will,” she said with utmost certainty and let him shelter her as they walked into the rain.

***

The instant Erika entered his penthouse, he locked the door, breathing easier. But having her there did nothing for his hard-on or accelerated heart beat. Now that he had her, he wasn’t letting her leave till he’d fucked her until she couldn’t move. As soon as they finished their sushi dinner and he found out what she wanted from him, he planned on having her over every square inch of his place—a first for him. Many women had been in his bed, but never against the windows overlooking the skyline or bent over the bathroom sink as he pounded into her from behind. He just needed to keep his inner kink in check, so he didn’t scare her away.

Walking over to the set of windows, she stared outside. “The view here is incredible. I’m jealous.”

A flash of lightning lit up the sky. Thunder boomed. Rain hit the glass in sheets, and the wind’s howl intensified.

Setting the food bags on the dining room table, he walked to the kitchen to select a bottle of Riedel Bordeaux. Grabbing two glasses, he went back to his guest, his entire body strung tight with the urge to take her where she stood, losing himself in her screams of pleasure combined with a dash of pain.

As he uncorked the bottle of wine, his hand shook. When Erika turned around, he flexed his fingers to hide his reaction. But she tilted her face up to the ceiling, giving no indication she’d noticed his internal battle.

“There’s no second floor?” She met him by the table.

“The main reason I bought the place is because I like loft living. Later, I can give you the tour, which will take all of two minutes.” He kept his voice light, although all he wanted to do was drag her to his bedroom, tear off her clothes, and take her on the floor or bed. He held out the glass of wine. “Here you go. Enjoy.”

When she reached to accept, their fingers brushed. A soft pink crept up her neck, staining her cheeks. He longed to run his hand over that section of flesh or rest his lips there.

She sipped, murmuring her approval. Sitting at the table, she took out the food.

He sat next to her, letting her serve him before he drank his wine, the smooth rich taste flowing down his throat. However, it did nothing to lessen the erection he sported in her honor. Dinner would be a test of patience on his part, but he was up to the challenge. His two mentors had taught him the rewards of waiting, of building up the temptation until he was in agony. The release would be all the sweeter.

She chose a cucumber roll with her chop sticks and took a bite. “It’s been a long time since I’ve eaten sushi.”

“I’m a sushi addict. I have it once a week.” He took one of the rolls, eating the entire thing at once, unlike Erika who took small nibbles.

She rested her elbow on table with her chin in her palm. “Are you feeling better than before?”

“Much, thank you.” He ate another roll.

She sipped her wine. “That’s what I was hoping to hear. It makes it easier for what I want to ask you.”

“And what would that be, Miss Walsh?”

The way she shifted in her seat and tugged her blouse’s collar gave him a perfect view of her chest-constricting bodice. The outline of her nipples peeked through the garment. He hoped she wore more of a thin, see-through bra, so he could suckle on the fabric and then bite down on her nipple hard enough to make her gasp in pain. By that point, she would be so far gone and excited, she wouldn’t care what he did. He was skilled in getting a woman to accept all he wanted to do to her in order for her to orgasm.

Rising from her chair, she grabbed her small case, setting it on the table. She ate three rolls in short order then finished off her wine. “This is my writing portfolio. It has my best articles and interviews. Most are of the celebrities with pet variety. Unless you have a cat or dog locked up around here, it looks like I can’t interview you about being a pet owner. If you’re open to it, how would you like me to interview you in a different way?”

“How?” Leaning back in the chair, he crossed one leg over the other. He would hear what she had to say, but the idea of sharing his intimate thoughts with the entire world would ultimately be rejected.

“There’s not much in the press or on-line about you. All the articles are about your company. There’s nothing personal or one-on-one with any print publication, news source, or website anywhere. That makes you open for gossip and for the tabloids to write lies. I’d like to offer myself as the first writer you allow into your world to solve the mystery of M.L. Crawford.”

And I would like you to get on your knees and suck me dry
. He cleared his throat. Jabbing one of his rolls with his chopstick, he popped it in his mouth, chewing slowly.

She didn’t poke him again for an answer like most women he associated with did. He had to give her credit. He liked delaying, seeing her impatience, which she hid by finishing her food.

“What if I took a few days to think about it? My mind is pulp after the day I had.” A small fib, but one that should make sense to the woman he ached to kiss. There was no way in hell he would let Erika report anything about him, but as long as he dangled that carrot in front of her, she wouldn’t go anywhere.

“How could I be so thoughtless?” She nodded in agreement and looked away. “You’re still mourning.”

“Mourning?” He tilted his head, waiting for her to explain further.

“The anniversary of your brother’s death still troubles you.” She gave his hand a pat. “It doesn’t compare to what you’ve gone through, but it took me a full year to get over my mother’s death. It took my dad much longer. I always felt guilty because I should have mourned her longer.”

“People react in different ways. It doesn’t matter if it’s a parent, sibling, or friend. It’s still tough, even years later. Catherine is still haunted about losing Cameron.”

“Catherine?”

His mind must be moving slow today. “She was my brother’s fiancée. She’s also my business partner.”

“Partner in Crawford Media? I thought you—”

“In another business.” He poured more wine. “If you’re finished, I can see if I have anything sweet for dessert. I can also make coffee if you’d like?”