Master for Tonight (3 page)

Deciding the best case scenario would be to
cooperate until she could make a run for it, get to a phone, or
somehow disable him, she started her deep-breathing exercises and
reciting calming mantras in her head. She had to calm down. Panic
does not lend itself to good decisions, or any decisions, for that
matter. She knew that.

Eyes closed, with the chants on a loop in
her mind, she breathed in and out deeply, again, missing her keys.
As she repeated the exercise, the pounding in her head began to
recede, and the quickness of the blood rushing through her veins
began to slow.

His voice filtered down to her from above,
“I’m glad you’ve controlled that, Kate. I’m not sure how much more
I could handle without tasting you. The sounds you make when you
breathe like that are...decadent.”

Choosing to ignore his mysterious statement
for the moment, she continued to breathe deeply with the mantra on
fast repeat in her mind and on her silent lips, until she was able
to again breathe normally.

Opening her eyes, Kate lifted them to look
at the man taking up much of her couch. He was sitting back, eyes
closed, still as a statue. Part of his slightly curly hair was
hanging in his face, long enough to almost touch his chiseled and
stubbly jaw. His facial hair looked longer and softer than day-old
stubble, but wasn’t long enough to be considered a full beard. His
skin was a beautiful mix of olive and bronze that belied a mixed
heritage. His nose, a Romanesque resemblance. Lips, a burnished red
and lush—lips that a lover would sink into when kissing.

Her gaze traveled down his face to his neck,
which held a thin leather cord with an emblem of a demon as the
pendant. He wore a crisp, white shirt with the top few buttons
undone, exposing the beginnings of a hard, hairless chest. The
shirt was tight enough that she could see the muscles underneath.
He was handsome and built, but not overly so. Black pants covered
his long legs.

He exuded maleness from his entire body—that
certain quality some men have in their DNA that makes a woman
recognize her femininity…her ‘womanness.’ That part of her that is
soft, malleable, and made to accept his penetration. To Kate, he
resembled a dark angel, beautiful and dangerous. She felt an
intense physical attraction to him, in spite of the
circumstances.

She wondered what in hell that man was doing
there with her, of all women. He was remarkable in every physical
way to her, and when he spoke, his British accent spiraled through
her body in ways which made her shiver, not all of them fearfully.
There was no doubt, he could charm his way into any woman’s
panties. So what was he doing there? He should be out at a club,
picking women from a line-up made just for him.

Kate wasn’t some 21-year-old, tight-bodied
sorority girl. She was a 38-year-old woman whose parts had started
to shift a bit over time. She worked out when she had the time and
took general care of herself, but she didn’t spend time at the gym
like that guy did. The more she thought about their physical
differences, the more bewildered she became about him, and more
insecure about herself. Not that Kate thought she was unattractive.
She didn’t. She knew she was pretty, and maybe even beautiful.
Still, she was just like most women who saw more cons than pros
when she looked in the mirror, and she allowed those thoughts to
undermine her self-esteem.

He’s so out of my
league.
He’s insane. That’s the only
logical answer to why he’s here. I’m nothing special to look at. At
least, not compared to him.

She realized with a shock, she had been
staring at his crotch during all the time she’d spent mulling
things over in her mind, and she looked away, blushing at her
absent-mindedness.

Her eyes wandered over his corded arms, to
his large hands, which were flexing while he clenched and
unclenched his fists, as if in nervous energy, holding something
back—maybe himself.

Pulling herself out of her self-deprecating
thoughts, Kate began to worry more as she watched his large hands,
scaring herself into thinking how easy it would be for him to hurt,
or even kill her. Her breathing began to hitch again, and her mouth
went dry. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply before opening
them.

When she raised her eyes back up to his
face, he was studying her with a raised eyebrow and a smirk on his
soft lips. It was clear to her that as she had been inspecting him,
he had been watching her do it. Welcoming it. Enjoying it.

Leaning away from him, she shifted her
embarrassed gaze to his fists as they continued to clench and
unclench. Following her eyes, he stopped and looked back down at
her apologetically.

He slapped his knees open palmed, as if he
had made a decision, startling her. With another smirk and a laugh,
he leaned slowly towards her, smiling, until they were almost nose
to nose, making Kate feel small and fragile, compared to his size.
Lifting a hand, he held her at the nape of her neck, asserting his
control over her. His hand covered the back of her neck entirely,
and his thumb grazed the bottom of her skull under her hair,
rubbing in circles, as if to calm her. His touch was strong, firm,
and controlling, but not painful. Her heart started to pound.

Easing his hand to the top of her head, he
pulled her to him closer, forehead to forehead, until they were
looking at each other with eyes at an upward angle. With his other
hand, he dragged the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip,
pulling it down slightly. His breath came out a ragged, intense
whisper, “Do you know how many nights I’ve had to wait because of
your damn schedule and visitors?”

Shocked, Kate whispered, “No. Wha... You’ve
been watching me? How long?”

*

For months, Julian had camped outside her
house on a tree limb for hours, watching through her window as he
listened to her beg for money from people who had too much, but
refused to part with any to help their fellow man. Some things
don’t change with time. The way she never gave up, but rather
twisted the discussion around in more appealing directions, showed
a tenacity he respected. Smart and wily, his Kate was. Julian
laughed out loud when Kate promised to dance with an heiress’s son
at the next benefit for a donation of $5,000.

Julian listened to Kate’s conversations with
her best friend, Mazzie, smiling at her cackles of laughter as they
discussed how their week was going, funny things that happened at
work, or the different men Mazzie had dated and slept with. To his
shock, they would discuss a man’s pros and cons in detail for
hours. And not just his looks or job, but also performance, stamina
and ‘size.’ Julian had no idea women talked that way. To his
further astonishment, every few weeks, a new name would pop up to
be analyzed.

Nothing was off limits to those two, except
when Mazzie brought up Kate’s need to ‘get laid.’ Kate would shut
the subject down immediately, sometimes mention the name Stan, and
redirect the conversation.

Julian heard Mazzie tell Kate, “You
should’ve called the cops on Stan’s ass when he attacked you,” and
she said he had been a “cheating dirtbag.” Upon hearing those
words, overwhelming rage had filled him. The man they were talking
about had raised a hand to his Kate. Despite Kate’s sincere
assurances that she was fine, Julian was determined to know more
about Stan, like where he lived. Stan would not be fine once Julian
was done with him.

There were also sad moments when they talked
about the recent court case which was dismissed by a judge. Kate’s
family had recently sued her to take her grandmother’s entire
estate, when none of them helped to take care of her during any of
the days of her illness, much less, the last ones. Kate had offered
her aunt a large sum to settle out of court, but she told Kate she
was going to take every single dime of Nana’s money from her,
including the house the inheritance had built. Kate wasn’t Nana’s
daughter, she was. The way Kate had been treated, as if she were
disposable, caused her great pain.

“What did I ever do to deserve this, Mazzie?
I don’t understand. I didn’t want the money. Nana gave it to me. I
never asked her for it!” she had cried out to her friend.

Julian would have given anything to hold and
comfort her. He decided that the aunt deserved a visit, too.

Julian knew what most people saw in Kate—a
slightly ditzy girl with a touch of the nerves who cared too much.
But not Julian. No, he saw that Kate had a tender heart and cared
about almost everyone around her, even the ones that she shouldn’t.
This made her vulnerable to people thinking they could manipulate
her…people like her family.

He also learned her focus was always in her
head instead of outside, around her. She was figuring things out in
there, working them out to her satisfaction. Sometimes, he thought
he saw steam blowing out her ears like a steam engine, she thought
so hard. Once she solved the problem, she tackled it head-on.

The combination of these things made Kate
run herself ragged at the shelter. She overwhelmed her mind first
by caring so much about the problem and driving herself to solve
it, and then by pushing her body, executing the solution.

In this way, Julian discovered the entirety
of Kate, both body and soul, and he loved every bit of her. As he
watched and listened to Kate nightly, she was revealed to him in
ways no one else ever would understand. He saw her completely. The
good and the not so good. It didn’t matter. Julian was compelled to
make her happy, in spite of herself.

Once the calls, dishes, and other sundry
tasks were done, Julian watched over Kate as she slept, wishing he
was inside, holding her close to him. Her soft curves molding
against the hard lines of his body. He knew they would fit together
perfectly, her ass against his groin as he held her tight, an arm
draped around her mid-section, holding her breast in his palm. The
back of her head would lie against his neck, and he would inhale
the sweet perfume of her hair all night after they made love.

Fuck no, he didn’t look away when her covers
fell during the night. She slept naked, and he loved it. The rise
and fall of her breasts as she slept hypnotized him. If it was up
to Julian, Kate would never wear clothes in her house, unless she
had company. And if her company was him...naked, just as she was
then.

Kate didn’t just sleep in her bedroom, and
Julian had observed her activities in that room for months. Not
once, did Kate have a man in there, which pleased him immensely. He
didn’t know what he would do if he saw another man in her bed.

No, Kate often pleasured herself, and quite
vigorously. He loved when she touched herself. Her breasts shook
and jiggled as her arm bumped against them when she fingered her
pussy, or when she was bouncing on top of the dildo she’d stick to
the floor. The first time he watched it slide inside her, his prick
almost exploded in his hand as he jerked off to her fucking
herself. He would stare at her in a trance, wishing she was riding
his cock, and he was filling her up. Kate would love his cock so
much more than that plastic imposter.

She wouldn’t need to use any lube to take
him in. She would get so fucking wet, his cock would easily violate
her with no resistance. His mind wandered to all the different ways
he wanted to violate her. She would love it all. He would make sure
of it. As he watched, he also learned how she liked to be stroked
by the way she touched herself. He had memorized every inch of her,
knowing precisely where to touch and how, but he still had his own
tricks. Oh yes, he had his own, and he yearned to show them to
her.

His cock started to throb hard as the images
ran rampant in his mind of a naked Kate, bending in all directions,
taking his cock or tongue. He didn’t waste time wondering why he
was so intensely attracted to her. He just was.

Julian’s heart and body ached with want for
her, but would have to be content with sating both of them one
night, and then walking away. He had to walk away for Kate’s
safety. Julian couldn’t bear the thought of Evangeline’s anger
bearing down on Kate.

Evangeline would never understand that he
had never loved her. How could he possibly love the person who had
stripped him of his humanity against his will? He hated her with
every part of his being.

Her one reason for changing Julian was to
keep him with her forever, after one thoughtless night of, in his
mind, half-assed fucking. He’d had a few pints, and she made
herself available. He hadn’t even tried very hard. She told him
she’d never been fucked so thoroughly, and then sank her teeth into
his neck.

Back then, Julian wasn’t the kind of man to
turn down pussy. Any pussy. Even at the age of thirty-five, when he
should have learned some discretion, he stuck his cock in every
woman willing to spread her thighs for him.

His mother had warned him, tried to tell him
to slow down, and to take care with the women he bedded. He
remembered the day they sat at her kitchen table, and she took his
hand, telling him with tears in her eyes, “Julian, I’m afraid a
woman is going to hurt you or even kill you because of how you
treat her. You need to be more careful with a woman’s heart. We
aren’t as hard hearted as men. You can’t just throw women away
without a glance back. It’s going to catch up with you, son.”

Julian dismissed her concerns with a kiss to
her forehead saying, “Ah, Mum, no worries about your Julian. I can
handle myself.” His mother had no idea her concerned plea was
actually a prophecy. “Man’s downfall.” Yeah, that’s what they
called it, and look where it got him.

Given that his insanely jealous Maker was
both faster and stronger than he was, Julian would not be able to
fully protect Kate from a red-eyed female vampire scorned. She was
already asking him where he was going at night without her. He made
sure he wasn’t followed each time he came to Kate, choosing a
different route and doubling back and around. He would cut his
wrist to drop his blood at different parts of the city, trying to
lead anyone looking for him in the opposite direction of his true
destination. He would do anything to shake someone who might be
following him.