Even Deeper (5 page)

There was no knock on the door to let us know he’d arrived. There was no phone call from the airport. Suddenly, Jack was simply in the room, his warm hand on my cheek, stroking my face. Alex and I had been up all night. We’d slept for half the day. Missing breakfast and lunch. The bottle was on the table on its side, mocking me when I opened my eyes and looked at it. I had to try very hard to figure out where I was.

Alex woke up far more easily. He stood and greeted Jack with a handshake rather than a hug, then retreated to the bathroom to get cleaned up. At least, that’s what I assumed.

“Did you miss me?”

I nodded, bleary eyed, wickedly hungover.

Jack looked at the clothing on the floor, the vinyl gear, the discarded crop. “Really?”

“Oh, god, Jack. Of course.”

“What did the two of you do last night, aside from kill a bottle of whiskey?” As he spoke, he went over to the far wall and opened the blinds and then the windows, airing out the stuffiness of the room.

“We went to the river,” I told him, trying to remember. “We drank on the edge, watching the moon over the water.”

“And how did you play?”

I winced, remembering. I’d failed. I’d been unable to live up to what Jack had expected. What Jack had requested. Unable to meet his eyes, I said, “I wore that outfit,” pointing to the ripples of vinyl. “I cuffed him.”

Jack came closer to me, sitting at the edge of the bed. When I pushed back the covers, and he saw that I was fully dressed—as Alex had been—his eyes narrowed. He could tell that I was keeping something from him. But I didn’t feel awake enough to continue. Didn’t feel strong enough, truly. I thought of the previous night. Thought of sitting astride Alex and listening to him tell me about his first lovers. How sexy that had been, to hear him describe the way he’d felt the first time he’d been fucked.

But what had I told Alex?

What had I traded?

Jack reached over the bed for the crop, stroking the tip between his fingers. “Good quality,” he said, making the weapon dance in the air. “Fine craftsmanship.” I swallowed with difficulty as I watched him, wishing for coffee. A shower. A brand-new brain.

“And you used this on Alex?”

I nodded.

“I don’t believe you.”

I started stammering. “Really, Jack. I used the same cuffs Alex had on the plane. I bound him face down on the bed. I used the crop on him.” All of those things were true, so why did I feel like such a fucking liar? And why was I getting wetter by the second? Because of the gentle way that Jack held the cruel toy. He was fresh off a twelve-hour flight, but you’d never have guessed it. He looked the same as always, intense and ready. Fierce and alert.

“How hard did you work him?”

How could I answer that? “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Did you make him beg?”

Oh, shit. No. I didn’t think I could ever reach a level where I would have that type of effect on Alex. Jack was the only one to wield that sort of power. Didn't he know that?

Jack strode to the bathroom door as he spoke. He opened it to reveal Alex, fresh from the shower, white towel around his flat waist, getting ready to shave. Alex looked from Jack to me, and Jack motioned for him to come into our room. Obediently, Alex followed his master into the room. His expression was curious. He wanted to know what we’d been discussing. I could tell. Jack filled him in immediately.

“Samantha says she tied you down,” Jack started, and Alex looked from Jack to me, eyebrows raised. I thought of our night. I thought of the way his lips had found the side of my neck. How his hands had stroked my body through my clothes. We might as well have fucked for the level of intimacy we’d shared.

“Yes,” Alex agreed with a nod. “She tied me down.”

“She says she used this on you.” The crop was still in Jack’s grip. Menacing as ever.

My heart was pounding. I had used it. But I hadn’t been a Dom for more than a few minutes. I hadn’t lived up to Jack’s expectations in any way. I stared at Alex, waiting for him to tell Jack everything. Waiting for him to explain the evening stage by stage, to reveal me as a fraud. To my total surprise, he didn’t rat me out. He didn’t point his finger and say that I was an imposter.

He simply turned around slowly and dropped the white terrycloth towel, showing off the marks that still remained, so that Jack nodded, appreciatively, and I felt guiltier than sin.

Everyone has a secret. Here was ours.

The question was, how long could I live with it?

“Not bad,” Jack said, walking closer to Alex, his fingers dancing over the remaining welts decorating Alex’s pale skin. A shiver worked through me. I knew what it felt like to be touched like that. To have the echo of pain brought to the forefront of my mind. “I’m impressed.”

I hung my head, feeling ill. Hungover? Yeah. Definitely. But that wasn’t the problem now. I knew what had happened between the two of us. I knew how pathetic I’d been in the role of power. Why was Alex protecting me?

Jack had the crop still in one hand, and he surprised me by passing the weapon to me.

“Show me.”

“Show you?” I asked, still looking at the mastery of Alex’s body. He was handsome. God, amazing, really. And I never actually looked at him as a person. That sounds evil. But he was so many other things. A rival, yes. A plaything, sometimes. A Dom, occasionally. But now…

“Show me what you did. Show me how you did it…”

I looked at Jack, surprised, and realized in a flash that he understood. Maybe he didn’t know everything that had transpired between Alex and myself, but he understood that something had gone awry. That what he had asked for and what had truly occurred were too separate visions.

“On the bed, Alex. Take the position.”

Alex turned around and his eyes met mine. He didn’t say a word. He pulled the rumpled blankets and sheets off the bed, then climbed into the hollow left by our bodies. The still-warm area where we had slept together all day long like puppies, limbs overlapped.

“Go on, Sam,” Jack urged. “Show me.”

I had the crop in my hand, and I looked at Alex, and I couldn’t believe he was going to let me do this to him. Let me whip him, as if all had gone serenely the previous night. As if nothing untoward had happened between us. Who was he? Why was he acting like this? He could so easily have told Jack that I’d been wretched in the role of Dom. That I’d failed miserably. Instead, he remained silent, wrists over his head, a portrait of submission.

“Wait,” Jack said, and my heart raced, thinking I was saved, but I wasn’t. “Alex was cuffed, right? With the cuffs from the plane?”

Jack looked around, locating them on the bedside table. While I watched, feeling as if the room was spinning—or
I
was spinning—he cuffed Alex’s wrists together. Then, satisfied, Jack looked to me once more. “Show me—”

I had the crop in my hand. I had a willing man bound on the bed. I had, in a way, a second chance. Here was my opportunity to prove what a good Dom I was. Or, rather, what a good sub I was. That was the confusing part for me. Jack wanted me to be in charge, and I craved Jack’s approval, wanting only to fulfill his wishes. But I have submission tattooed on my soul. Being in charge went against everything in me.

And what the fuck was up with Alex? Why was he letting this happen? Why wasn’t he stepping forward, crowing to Jack at what a miserable excuse I was for a Dominatrix? Alex remained absolutely silent, the muscles in his back taut and waiting.

“I can see the stripes you left last night,” Jack, coming to stand at my side. “I know you have it in you. So what’s the fucking problem?”

I raised the crop.

I looked at Alex.

I let the crop fall from my hand to the floor.

Alex turned his head to look at me. “Come on, Sam.” I was surprised to hear him say the words. He was ready. He would take this pain for me. For no reason at all. Was it because of the time we’d shared on the riverbank together, the secrets we'd told, or the way our bodies had been aligned in the bed? What was it that had changed for Alex?

Jack stared from one of us to the other. I saw his eyes flickering over Alex’s naked skin. He knew there was no way that Alex could have whipped himself like that. And yet he knew there was some secret bond between us. Jack was no fool. But he didn’t speak.

“Pick up the crop.”

That was Alex talking. Alex!

“Jesus, Samantha. Pick it up.”

I couldn’t stand it anymore. I started to cry, my back pressed up against the hotel wall. I didn’t know what was going on with me. I couldn’t explain it. But there was no way I was going to be able to hurt Alex now.

Silently, Jack stepped forward. Silently, he undid the cuffs on Alex’s wrists, then motioned for Alex to get dressed. I watched Alex slipping on fresh boxers. New jeans. A plain T-shirt. The lack of conversation in the room weighed heavily on me. Wouldn’t Jack speak? Or was he waiting for me to explain. The tears ran solidly down my cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” I said finally. “I’m sorry, Jack.”

“For what?”

“I couldn’t do what you wanted.”

“Explain.”

I was stammering over each word, begging Alex to help me, but the boy was quiet.

Jack had the crop in his hand. There was a space on the bed. There were the cuffs. And then there was me. Taking off yesterday’s clothes. Righting my world by climbing onto the warmth left by Alex.

And then watching Jack pass the crop to Alex and hearing Jack say to his lover, “Show me.”

This was much easier for me.

How fucked up is that?

Being bound on the bed. Knowing that pain was imminent. Knowing that my man—my men—would take care of me. This was simple. I could feel the tension leaving me. I could feel my heartbeat returning to normal. And all because I was no longer in charge.

But I shouldn’t have relaxed so quickly. Jack was in Paris now. Jack was in control. There was no way of guessing what he was thinking, what he had planned.

“You know what I want,” Jack said to Alex. I didn’t look over my shoulder. I just listened. “I want to understand what happened last night. As if I were here, in the room with you. Samantha can’t seem to explain in a satisfactory manner.” I could hear a quiet sneer in his voice. “Why don’t you try?”

Alex hesitated. I imagined that he was doing his best to figure out how to please Jack. But Jack was leaving nothing up to guesswork.

“You be Sam.”

I pressed my head to the mattress, and I started to worry. Alex had been my savior—had tried to be, at least. Tried his best to bolster me up, to get me off the hook. But now that Jack was giving him a direct order, I had no questions about where Alex’s loyalty truly remained.

I heard him breathe in deeply. I heard him take a step closer to the bed. Then I heard those words I’d taunted him with the previous evening: “How does he touch you when you’re alone? Does he touch you gentle, or does he only touch you hard?”

I felt as if I were falling. As if a split had opened in the hotel room floor, yawning wide to take me in. How would Jack react to this? What would he think of the way I’d questioned Alex. I realized that Alex was waiting for me to respond. And I licked my lips and tried my best. “You can answer that yourself,” I said, and I wondered why I had the sudden urge to laugh. This was insane. Unbearable. Why hadn’t I whipped Alex when I’d had the chance? Not for Jack’s pleasure, but for my own. I brought us to this place where nothing felt right. Where nothing was what it seemed. Alex was me? And I was him? And Jack was pulling the strings to work us both.

“Does he touch you gentle?” Alex repeated, and his voice had gone so cold and dark that a fresh shiver ran through me. “Or does he only touch you hard?”

I wanted warmth. I wanted Jack next to me. Jack stroking my hair out of my eyes. Jack kissing my lips. I wanted anything but this. Still, I knew my place. I knew what had to be done, what had to be said. “You can answer that yourself,” I told him, my body tightening in anticipation as Alex let the first strike land on my skin, absolving me with the instantaneous pain that flared through me.

I swallowed over the lump in my throat, remembering everything so clearly. How Alex had looked bound down on the bed. How he hadn’t given me the impression—even for a second—that he was my slave. He’d taken what I’d dished out, only because Jack had told him to. How had he responded to the first blow? He’d been flippant.

“There’s no reason to think he treats me differently from you,” I parroted, recalling exactly how I’d felt when I’d heard that lie from Alex’s lips.

Just as I had, he struck quickly, several times in a row, and I shuddered once more, but for different reasons entirely. The pain was giving me the power I needed to get through this. Like a drug, the pain was taking the edge off.

“Don’t lie,” Alex said, and was that dark humor I heard in his voice, or was he simply enjoying his moment on stage? “You’re Jack’s right-hand man. I want to know what you do when you’re alone. Do you fuck him, or does he fuck you?”

Oh, shit. It was worse than if we’d been videotaped. Worse than having to live through some electronic playback. Alex, clearly mocking me now, had definitely been paying attention to every single second of our encounter. And while I had been doing my best to simply stay upright and in charge, he’d been mentally recording the tone in my voice, the very way I’d posed the questions.

I wanted to turn my head toward Jack. I wanted to see how he was taking all of this. Yet, I was a coward. I didn’t dare.

There was a pause in the action, and I realized that Alex was waiting for me to respond. I took a breath, I let it out, and I said, “Come on.” I couldn’t make myself call him by my name. I couldn’t do it. So I waited, my whole body trembling. Why had I gone this route? Why had I taken the three of us down this road? I was so lost in the worries of what Jack was thinking that I forgot for a moment what had happened next. Forgot until Alex said, “Count.”

I’d wanted this. I’d climbed willingly onto the bed. I’d let my wrists be bound. I’d hoped for every last lick of the crop on my skin. Now, I wished for something else. Wished I could go on my knees in front of Jack and apologize. Wished I could explain.

But there was no time.

I’d been in the room, too. I knew exactly how many cuts I’d landed on Alex's naked skin. What I didn’t expect was the fact that Jack stepped forward, Jack took Alex’s place, Jack asked me how many, and I shut my eyes and I turned my head toward my shoulder in the most humble form of submission I could manage, and I said, “Twenty.” A solid twenty before giving him a single breather.

“We’ll double it,” said Jack before raising his arm to strike the first blow.