Embracing the Fall (15 page)

“Thank you, sir.” His handshake was firm and strong, so at least that was a plus.

“I hope you’ll call if you have any questions and I’ll make sure you get buzzed right
through. You and this partnership are our top priority over at Pac-West, and I want
you to know, we get this sealed and it will stay that way.”

It was a good line, Evan thought, a little too slick and rehearsed but he appreciated
the sentiment. “I’m glad to hear that. It was nice meeting you. I’m sorry, what was
the name again?”

“Mark. Mark Wahlberg.”

Evan faced the rest of the day determined not to be distracted. The two women he had
spent the weekend with, however, had other plans. They had taken his mind captive
and there didn’t appear to be anything he could do about it. So he gave in and shot
off a text to Ziporah.

why can’t I get your sexy ass out of my mind and between my teeth where it belongs?

Then, because he was nothing if not fair, he sent one off to Cami next.

the taste of you lingers on my tongue and I’m craving you like an addict…

He was on the phone with one of the ad agencies vying for their new line of business
when Cami’s text came through.

If the taste of me is still lingering on your tongue… I’d say you forgot to brush
your teeth. ew.

Evan then had to explain away his loud and abrupt laughter to the poor guy on the
other end of the line and agreed to give him a meeting in person.

see why i call you brat?

Ziporah responded next while he was shuffling his schedule with his assistant.

Apparently you can because just reading this has me ready to beg the judge for a recess
and come running.

Another text from her followed, close on the heels of the first.

And how in the hell you accomplished that in one weekend I do not know.

He read each of those messages twice before answering, savoring her words of devotion
and giving them the attention such remarks deserved.

oh, ziporah. this is why I call you sugar. never mind how prickly your exterior, inside
you are all sweetness and heat.

Two minutes later, as he was just heading in for a meeting, he got another text from
Cami and had to stop and lean against his office door to collect himself for a moment.
She sent him a selfie. And wow.

She was in her tavern and she’d pulled her hair into childish pigtails then laid on
the red lipstick, shiny and thick. Her black button down blouse had been unbuttoned
and she’d tied it between her breasts. He could clearly make out her nipples, so he
knew she’d removed her bra as well. The little imp was sticking her tongue out at
him. She had captioned the picture with only a single sentence.

I’ll show you brat.

“And I’ll show you how a Dom responds to his brat,” he muttered, as he pocketed his
phone and headed out the door. “Call my one o’clock and push them to tomorrow,” was
all he said and sailed onto the elevator.

Haven was closed until two, so by his calculations, he had approximately thirty-two
minutes to discipline his brat as he exited his cab and took the steps to the door
in impatient strides.

He was just reaching for the handle when a full-figured and striking caramel-skinned
woman opened it and came bustling out. She raised her eyebrows at him and he couldn’t
tell if the assessing look on her face was favorable or not. Evan opened his mouth
to introduce himself, but she cut him off.

“I know who you are. Don’t bother. I saw you sniffing around my Cam the other night.
She seemed to like it, so it ain’t none of my business that you’re here in the middle
of the work day, when decent people are about their business trying to make a living
and raise their families and you got to come in here and get all up in her place of
work where people
eat,
mind you, and if I come back after my break and see you went poking in my kitchen
and left a mess, then I’m going to be
pissed
! Just try it and see–” she kept going. Even as she was buttoning up her coat and
pulling on her hat, she was still muttering about how scandalous it was that he was
there when he shouldn’t be as she marched away in a huff. Evan thought he just might
be in love.

Then all thoughts faded but one as he shut and locked the door behind him and walked
inside. Cami was singing. Gone were the pigtails and bright red cheeks. She had readjusted
her clothing and there was only a thin clear gloss on her full lips as they wrapped
around the words of an old Patsy Cline number and made them alive once again.

In the dim lighting she sat atop a stool in the center of the stage and sang of heartache
and a broken spirit like one who would know. That was the hidden key to Patsy’s music.
No matter how beautiful the voice, if the person singing didn’t have that deep well
of sadness to draw from, the songs just fell flat. But from Cami, god, Evan felt the
sting of tears prick his throat at the terrible haunting beauty of it.

He stayed in the shadows as she sang but she knew he was there. Her eyes tracked his
slow progress as he rounded the gleaming oak and brass bar. Her voice grew huskier
and the wrenching sadness she’d poured into the music lifted, replaced note by note
with a sultry undertone that told him she knew why he was there.

Cami watched Evan emerge from the shadows like a dream. His head gleamed in the scant
light and she could just make out his silhouette at first. Tall, muscled man draped
in a designer business suit that fit him to mouth-watering perfection, topped by one
of those ankle length overcoats that probably cost a year’s rent. He was mesmerizing.

Evan was making his way slowly across the dining area now, weaving in and out of the
tables and shedding layers as he went. The overcoat carelessly tossed on a table.
Next the jacket dropped over a chair. His tie he only loosened and the same with the
top two buttons of his gleaming white shirt. When he got to the foot of the stage,
his hands went to his belt and he drew it off with a hiss of leather as it slid like
butter from its loops.

Slowly. So slowly it was like torture, he wrapped the buckle end of that delicious
strip of cowhide around one fist and left more than half of it hanging at his side.
She missed a note when his free hand went to the button of his slacks and she saw
the potent proof of his arousal straining there.

With shaky hands, Cami set her guitar to the side and stared at him as he lowered
his zipper, one tiny tooth at a time. “I believe I told you what I would do were you
to ever stick your tongue out at me.” The zipper down, his hand reached in, and through
the fabric, Cami watched as he gripped and stroked himself. “Brat.”

“Yes.” Cami had to swallow. Twice. “Yes, Sir.” Her eyes were glued to the motion of
his hand. She was waiting for him to bring his shaft out, bring it out so she could
clearly see him fist that hard flesh. He didn’t though. He just continued to stroke
it, while she could only guess what it looked like and wonder if it was getting harder
the way she was getting wetter. She swallowed again and licked her lips. “Does my
sweet brat want her Dom’s cock?” The question brought her startled eyes up to his.
The emerald glowed in the low lighting, compelling her, challenging her.

Fear tried to assert itself, but she fought it back and nodded. “Yes, Sir.” Evan didn’t
instruct her to, but she wanted to give him the high protocol of a structured scene.
Cami had found safety in the scenes they’d had on the weekend together. A separation
from any sexual encounter she’d ever had before and that separation, that distinction,
freed her. “Please, Sir,” she begged, then she toed-off her shoes and slid to her
knees on the stage before him. “Please.”

His eyes closed and she watched the effect her supplication had on him. Evan’s lips
parted and the skin tightened on his face until his high cheekbones stood out in stark
relief. He tilted his head to the side a fraction, as he seemed to bask for a moment
while he took her submission in. Then Evan reached out with both hands, leaving himself
still safely tucked inside his fly-damn him- and wrapped the belt around her neck.
He fixed it high up, to just under her chin and she felt him adjusting behind her
until he was satisfied with the fit. Back to holding the belt rolled around one clenched
fist, he stroked her hair away from her face with his other hand and said, “Take out
my cock, brat.”

Her hands trembled as she answered and reached for him. The stage wasn’t that high
off the main floor and he was a tall man on top of that, so with her kneeling before
him, it put her face at the perfect level for the task at hand. The clenching between
her legs was so strong when she finally wrapped her hands around him, that she thought
she might’ve just come. It felt like she’d been waiting her whole life to be here.
In this spot. On her knees, with her Master’s cock in her hands and her will in his.

Without a word, he pulled on the tether that was the belt, so she lowered her head
and took him in. He was hot and slick and hard on her tongue. No playful licks or
teasing, the moment was too charged for it; she felt ravenous. Cami dropped her hands
to her sides, flattened her tongue, opened her throat and slid down until that blunt
head was bumping her tonsils and closing her airways. At the end of herself, and yet
still she pushed, pushed as though to swallow him in truth. He growled and she felt
his free hand fist in her hair as he cursed and pulled her back up. She made a hungry
noise and sucked her way back down as his thigh muscles clenched. When she was so
far down she couldn’t get him any farther, she worked her tongue on the underside
where that fat vein pulsed against her and she heard him curse again, fervently.

She loved giving oral. Cami had discovered this about herself years ago. At first,
she had assumed the reason was because it was one thing that hadn’t been a part of
that night. One sexual act that hadn’t been tainted. However, as she had come to understand
who she was sexually, a true fully submissive woman, she found that wasn’t the case.
Along with a large percentage of subs, Cami’s pleasure was derived from service. Her
own experience was enhanced exponentially by the knowledge that she was pleasing the
one she was with. For a sub like her, the giving of pleasure was every bit as vital
as the receiving of it.