Masked Definitions (31 page)

“I’m going to pull down your trousers, finger fuck you until you come.” His fingers pop open the button to my jeans. “Kiss every single inch of your unmarked skin and then fuck you so hard and fast you’ll see stars.”

All of my reservations vanish as his hand teases me to the orgasm promised. All thoughts vanish when his lips explore every inch as said. Then my heart, my head and my soul explode when he fucks me so fast and so hard, I swear I leave my body for the duration of my climax. As he said, I see nothing but fucking stars.

“Just because we’ve had really good sex,” I yell over the sound of my hairdryer, “doesn’t mean I’m not really fucking upset that you’ve tried to emotionally blackmail me into getting your way.”

His surprised eyes meet mine in the reflection of the mirror. “When?”

“When you said if I called him, we’d be over.”

His lips part and his hands push him up off the bed. “Is that why you were so angry?”

I watch his naked body get closer as I place the hairdryer onto the wooden desk. His hands come to my bare shoulders, which are damp from our recent shared shower. Fingers knead deep circles. It feels so good.

“I need to be honest with you,” he tells me and his eyes look away. I see shame written across his face and my thoughts instantly fly to the worst.

“Go on.” I turn on the stool to face him as he pads to his dresser and quickly snatches a pair of boxer briefs from the top drawer. He pulls them on, hiding his delicious cock from my sight.

“The second time you danced for me I filmed you.”

A high-pitched ringing disorients my hearing; my breathing sounds shallow and hoarse.

“Don’t panic, I only showed Lockhart. I didn’t send him the video and then I deleted it.”

This is just getting worse. “Why would you do that?”

Kneeling before me, he places his hands on my knees and looks deep into my eyes. “I wanted to know who you were.”

“What does that have to do with Lockhart?”

He blows out a breath and holds my gaze. “You have to swear on everything that I have your promise…”

“Promise?”

“That you won’t breathe a word of this to anybody.”

Now I’m definitely intrigued. “Of course. It’s not like I have anybody to breathe it to; let’s be realistic.”

“You will,” he assures me though at this point I just want to know the gossip.

“Whatever.” I wave him off. “Get to why you thought it was okay to show another man my body without my consent.”

“Lockhart owns the club. He’s the silent owner. Because of his ties in the music industry….”

“Ties?” I scoff. “He owns the music industry…”

Elijah’s brows draw together. “You’ve looked him up?”

“Of course. Wouldn’t you?”

“Anyway,” he grits, clearly annoyed that I’ve dared look up another man. “I wanted to know who you were. He promised me he’d look into it.”

“Did he find out?”

“I’m assuming so, though he never contacted me again after I asked. He’s a man of honour who doesn’t go spitting out peoples’ confidential information.”

“Have you filmed me against my will since?”

His eyes roll. “Of course not. Do I look stupid?”

“You sometimes have me questioning.”

His hand connects with my thigh and it stings but only just. “Cheeky.” Without warning, his lips touch mine. “So am I forgiven?”

“Why did you emotionally blackmail me?”

“I’m clearly not forgiven…” He sighs heavily and wraps his arms around me. I scream when I’m twisted from the seat and onto the soft rug. “I panicked, but that’s not how I meant it. I meant that you’d break up with me.”

“Well I’m not, but that doesn’t mean I’m not annoyed.” His thumb presses against the creases in between my brows. I ignore him and continue. “That wasn’t fair. I deserve better than that. I’m not some object. I know you paid for my services but… my body is still my own.”

“I know.”

“Speaking of paying for services…” I wet my lips and wrap my arms around his neck. “You need to call your brother. This breakup will be a lot easier if you and he are talking again.”

“You rarely speak of him as your husband anymore.”

He’s right. “I don’t want that tainting what we have. Now stop distracting me and tell me you’ll call him.”

His face drops to my neck and his body smothers my own. “Would it make you happy?”

“Yes.”

His chest deflates. “Fine.”

Squeezing him with my arms and legs, I kiss his temple and try to roll us over. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me for speaking to my brother. I should be doing it anyway. I just don’t want to spend a moment from you while I have the time to spend every moment with you.”

“I hear you.”

His head lifts and he shifts to the side so it’s resting on one elbow. Soft fingertips trace my face as he stares down at me. “Soon I’ll have to get back to my normal routine. There’s so much that needs doing before we leave for America. We’ll hardly have time for this.”

“We’ll find time.” I close my eyes as he tickles my eyebrows. It is extremely relaxing. “Don’t worry.”

“I don’t want you to tire of me.”

“We just had our first argument and survived. I’m not going to tire of you just yet.”

His lips touch the tip of my nose seconds before I’m being dragged from the ground. “Come on. Let’s go and eat before we waste away from all of this sex we’ve been having. Your stamina surprises even me.”

“Gymnast,” is my reply and he grins at me over his shoulder.

It’s not until we’re standing in underwear, by his small table in the corner of the room, eating two cups full of cereal and milk – because there are no bowls – that I finally dare ask. “So why do you think he wants to speak to me?”

“He probably wants to fuck you,” he responds bitterly and places his spoon next to the cup. “He’s not like… I don’t know how to explain it.”

I place my spoon beside his, still not full despite the amount of cereal I’ve consumed. “Explain what?”

“You’re… well you’re dominant.”

“Huh?”

He shrugs and clears his throat. “You were in control of the whole dancing scenario.”

“And?”

“He’s a dominant too, but a lot worse. He owns women. He has them begging at his feet.” His eyes roll as he pushes our clutter to the middle of the table. “He doesn’t take wives or anything of the sort. He claims women and he owns them and they stay so they must love it.”

“Or he traps them?”

“Doubtful, he gets bored easily. I believe I’ve seen him with five different women already this year.”

I raise a pointed brow. “How do you know all of this?”

“Rumours mostly, but everyone knows it’s true and the fact he has a different woman on his arm every week, sometimes two… one time three, is pretty self-explanatory.”

“Surely he hates such rumours?”

“He’s never denied them. I’m not even sure he’s acknowledged them,” he points out and comes back to the table. “You’d probably be a challenge to him. Either that or he wants you to dance for him.”

“Or maybe he wants me to go back to work for him. I was their most popular dancer after all.”

“I know. They never would have let you go if I weren’t involved.”

Blink. “Seriously?”

“It doesn’t even matter; it’s done. You’re never going back there.”

“Okay, bossy boots.”

His phone rings and his sigh is heavy. I leave him to attend the call and finish getting dressed. I’m still intrigued by what Lockhart could want. I highly doubt it’s because he wants to sleep with me. When I bumped into him outside the bathroom, he showed no interest beyond a polite introduction, which I’m assuming is an art he’s mastered in his business.

I’m also interested in what Elijah meant by dominant. Is Lockhart the real deal? I’m simply interested because it’s different and not because I want a piece of it. A girl can enquire purely because she’s intrigued.

Should I call him? I don’t see why it’s such a big deal now that Elijah has told me the truth.

No, I decide. It isn’t worth upsetting him over.

“If it makes you feel any better…” Elijah steps back into the room twenty minutes later. “I’ve spoken to Max and we’re meeting for lunch tomorrow.”

I gulp. “How did he seem?”

“Surprisingly well.”

“Huh…”

He frowns. “Is that not a good thing?”

“Of course it is. It’s just not a Max thing.”

“Maybe he’s over you.”

My chest warms with hope but my head freezes it with logic. Max will never change and if things seem too good to be true, they
definitely
are.

“Have faith,” he tells me.

Have faith, he told me but that’s the exact thing I don’t have as I walk past shop upon shop, ignoring them completely. Ross shadows me, reassuring me that Elijah is safe from whatever Max may have planned.

I just wish they’d hurry and finish their lunch. At least I get some outside time while he’s keeping Max occupied. I should really put Elijah’s wallet to good use but I just can’t bring myself to do it. He gives me so much already.

“How long have you worked for Elijah?” I ask Ross as he walks in step only a pace or two behind.

“Just over two years.”

“Is he a good boss?”

He laughs a little and I turn slightly to see his smile. “He’s not really a boss. He doesn’t get to tell me what to do beyond giving me directions on where I gotta be.”

“Oh, so he just signs the checks?”

“Pretty much.”

The way he falls back a step signifies that he’d rather be concentrating and not speaking, so I leave him alone. I feel awkward having him follow me when I have no set destination in mind.

Then another thought hits me. Technically Elijah stole my mp3 player as I have yet to receive it back. Seeing as he permanently borrowed it, it’s only right that he gets me a new one. I don’t mind using my phone for music but it drains the battery.

“Where’s the closest place to buy an mp3 player?” I ask Ross, who directs me towards some kind of record store.

They have me hooked up in minutes with a ton of free tunes preloaded onto it. A lot of them I haven’t heard, but I don’t care.

Less than an hour later I find myself sitting on the grass under the scorching heat of the sun, in the middle of Dean’s park. In the distance I can see the Old Palace that still mesmerises me to this day. Once upon a time I used to imagine myself a Princess in such a Palace. I told my mum I’d rule the city with a gentle yet firm hand. She’d never laugh; only tell me that if I wished it and worked for it, I’d be it.

How disappointed she must be in me.

Not anymore. Hopefully America will offer me more opportunities. I’ve had time to mull over what Elijah’s mother said to me. The problem with rediscovering what I want is that I don’t have a clue. The only thing I’ve ever wanted to do is dance. I love dance and gymnastics, though I have never truly put much effort into it. If I put more effort into it, took better classes, studied it, I know I could be amazing. The problem is that I wouldn’t know how to make a career of it beyond pole dancing.

As if sent from the heavens, a man across the way begins playing music out of a large, old looking stereo. He places a large matt on the pavement and a tub beside it. When he begins to breakdance, I can’t stop my grin. I love dancing, all styles. I just love it. The way it makes me feel as I’m doing it, the way it makes me feel when I’m watching it. Free, relaxed, dreamy… everything good and nothing bad. Even the aches and pains make me smile. Even the sweat.

My feet carry me towards the dancing man and for once I’m glad to have a smart phone for I get the chance to film this. When he’s done, I tip him big and wander away again, still smiling.

It’s another forty minutes before my phone rings, Elijah’s name lighting up the screen.

“You’re safe.”

“Yes, but…” He sighs heavily. “He’s an absolute mess.”

My heart clenches painfully. “In what way?”

“Every way.” We both fall silent for a pause. “Where are you?”

“Dean’s park.”

“Tell Ross to bring you to the club. I’ve got some things to take care of.”

“Why not home?”

He clears his throat. “I’ll explain soon. Just meet me at the club.”

He hangs up before I can argue, not that I was going to. “We have to go to the club.”

“Did he say which one?” Ross asks, looking annoyed.

“No, just the club. Shall I call him back?”

He smiles kindly. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll call Stephen and figure it out.”

“Thank you.” I’ve never walked so quickly in all of my life.

“Okay, so the mysteriousness surrounding our conversation is fucking killing me,” I announce the second I step into his office.

I entered just in time to see him raise his head from his hands. His eyes, normally a sparkling shade of icy grey, are as dull as wet cement. Panic ensues and I quickly move to his side. “What’s wrong? What is it?”

“I’m trying to get him institutionalised,” he admits and it’s then I see the tear in the breast pocket of his shirt. I notice how he looks rumpled and unkempt.

“What happened?”

“He attacked me, threatened to kill me if I didn’t find you.” He looks only irritated, not frightened. “Stephen has him detained at the house.”

“Detained?”

“He’s… he’s crazy,” he tells me and stands. “He’s mentally deranged.” I feel his fingers bite into my shoulders. “I’m sending you away.”

“Away?”

“Yes, you’re to go and stay in London while I clear up a few things here.”

“London?”

“My mother assures me she’ll take good care of you.”

“Elijah…”

He paces away from me and pulls an envelope from the drawer. “I’ll be with you as soon as I can. I’m going to put the mansion back on the market.”

“Don’t you think we should talk about this?” I don’t want to be sent away. I don’t trust long distance relationships. What if he falls in love with somebody else whilst I’m miles away from him? I can’t look after him from such a distance.

“I need you out of the city where you’re safe.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“You are, first thing in the morning.”

I release a growl of frustration. “Elijah…”

His eyes, no longer that dull shade resembling wet cement, throw an icy fire at me. “There’s no point arguing with me on this one.”

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” I snap, prodding him in the chest with a finger. “Why are you so panicked?”

“Because…”

“If you’re getting him help then we shouldn’t be worried.”

He rolls his eyes and lets out a growl of his own. “You can’t just throw somebody in a mental hospital. There are rules to follow, tests to be done…”

“Then do them!”

“I’m fucking trying!” He yells directly in my face. I feel the force of his breath hit my cheeks. “But we can’t keep Max against his will forever. It’s illegal.”

Wrapping my arms around his waist, I press my cheek to his chest. “We’ll figure it out.”

“We just need to get out of here and I’ll feel… sane again, for lack of a better word. I’m tied between being worried you’ll go back to him and worried he’ll take you from me.”

“Neither of those things are going to happen.” I’m unsure of what else to say to convince him.

He bends and picks me up with his arms wrapped around my hips.

“Enough about all of that.” I’m placed onto the desk and I feel paper crinkle beneath my thighs. “How was your day?”

“It was good. I bought a new mp3 play…” My gaze is caught by a mark on his neck. It looks like a long, red and angry line that mirrors another beside it further down his neck. “He fucking scratched you?”

He releases me immediately and adjusts the collar of his shirt. “We may have scuffled. It’s nothing…”

“I’ll kill him,” I snarl, angry that somebody dare lay their hands on
my
Duke. “What the hell were you scuffling for? Any other injuries I should know about?”

His smiles as though smiling at a snarling kitten and the condescending curl of his lip tells me he’s merely finding my outburst adorable. “He was a bit worked up; it’s nothing.” I feel his soft lips touch my forehead. “Hungry?”

“You’re not sending me away.”

“It’s just to get you away from him.” His voice is low and soft. “We’ll talk more about it later. Have you put any more thought into studying? I know you said you were interested.”

Part of me is rather scared to admit that I want to continue dancing but in a less erotic way. Instead of saying it, I shrug and move to the door. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Let me know when you do.” He follows closely behind. “Anything you want, it’s yours.”

“Don’t make me leave,” I murmur but the fact he doesn’t answer tells me I don’t have a choice.

Elijah types with both thumbs on the screen of his phone. I know that he’s in the middle of a conversation with somebody about my husband, though he won’t talk to me about it. I’m beginning to get frustrated. He asked me for space last night and didn’t return to the hotel room until past two in the morning.

What does he know that I don’t? What has happened?

I know it has nothing to do with my mother because she called me twenty minutes ago. I only hung up on her because Elijah returned to the room after leaving before I woke.

“Are your things packed?”

I almost didn’t pack them but I don’t want to add to his stress right now. “Yes.”

“Good, a car will be here for you in ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes?” My eyes blur with tears. “You aren’t taking me?”

“I have so much to get done here.”

“Like?”

“I’m a Duke with land, businesses, employees…” His tone is harsh and his eyes roll. “What else?”

“There’s no need to be an arse.”

His cheeks puff with air as he blows it through pursed lips. “Sorry. I just… I don’t want you to go.”

“Then don’t send me away.” My hand moves to his thigh. “It’s all so dramatic. Maybe I should just talk to him…”

“NO!” His tone is so loud even the driver startles. “I don’t want you worrying about this anymore. Just sign the papers. We’ll get him to sign the papers and that’s it. That’s all you need to do.”

“I’m not a child.”

“No, you’re right.” He turns towards me and swipes my hair behind my ear before cupping my cheek with his palm. “You aren’t, but you are powerless against him. I’m not, so let me deal with it. Let me carry this burden.”

“But…”

“
Please
,” he begs and kisses the end of my nose. “Allow me a break from worrying for your safety.”

“I’m starting to wonder if this is just about your brother.”

“Of course it is,” he lies and I catch it the second it rolls from his mouth. That’s an intolerable bash to my trust for him, though I don’t push the subject, not yet anyway.

Unfortunately, my pleas go unheard and ten minutes later, he’s lifting my suitcase into the boot of a large, white Audi. I wish I knew more about cars because this one is perfection. It’s so shiny.

“I’ll be with you on Saturday until Monday morning,” he assures me, though I don’t believe him. This is it. I’m trying to keep a level head but I know deep down this is the beginning of the end.

His kiss confirms it. The deep, slow, torture of it. The way he pulls in a long breath through his nose as if inhaling the very essence of me as his lips claim all flavour. His arms trap me against his body as though trying to absorb me, yet the stiffness in his shoulders, not the part I want to be stiff at this point, tells me he’s about to push me away as quickly as he drew me to him.

It’s not until I’ve been in the car for twenty-five minutes that my phone rings. “Ms Corbin, to say you’re a hard woman to track down would be an understatement. It seems my
good friend
the Duke really hates to share.”

“Sorry?”

“It’s Lockhart. Look, I’m going to cut to the quick. Elijah informed me that he’d spoken to you about the sharing of the tape?”

“Yes.”

He pauses, seeming surprised, then continues. “Good, well…” Somebody speaks in the background, a male voice I can’t quite decipher or recognise. “I have here with me Enri.”

“Enri?”

“As in ‘Ash in Palms’.”

When he states the name of one of my all-time favourite singers of one of my all-time favourite albums, I almost squeal.
Almost
.

“Feel free to freak out. I’m used to it.” Enri yells in his thick, Spanish accent that makes most females swoon. He follows it with a laughter as Lockhart sighs heavily.