Winner Takes All (A Full Length Erotic Romance Novel) (13 page)

Sasha grabbed her keys and fumbled
to open the car door, fell into the driver’s seat. Her hands clutched the
steering wheel. Tightening and releasing around the unyielding black circle.
What could she do? What options did she have? She stared through her windshield
into the darkness.
Her apartment was the biggest expense. She could give
it up and take a room at a boarding house. But even then, she would need more
money to make up the difference in the additional thousand dollars that James
wanted. She could sell her car and take the bus to work, but that would only be
a one-time thing. She needed a constant influx of money to keep her brother off
her back.
Sasha thought of every possible scenario for making
money, selling everything she owned, selling her platelets and her eggs,
everything short of becoming a whore. But nothing seemed like the most
practical solution. James was always going to demand more money.
Sitting in the car with the non-options running
through her mind like hamsters around a wheel, she felt trapped. Out of her
depth. The windows fogged up as she sagged in the driver’s seat, practically
hyperventilating, flooded with impotent anger and helplessness.
The last time her life had felt so out of control,
she had been in one of the group homes.
Alienated from everything familiar except her
brother’s daily terrors. The kids picked on her and tried to hurt her but she
fought them. Fighting them only got her in trouble, made her time at the home
even worse. But she couldn’t stop fighting them; she couldn’t just lie down and
let them beat her into submission each day. It was a dumb and painful cycle
that she’d only escaped once she got involved with the volunteer riding
program. And now, here she was again.
Sasha angrily shoved the key into the ignition and
started the car. Pulled out of the parking lot. She didn’t know where she was
going; all she knew was that she couldn’t sit in the car much longer with all
those eyes staring at her in the darkness. She couldn’t keep sitting still.
And so, she drove. She drove until she left her
apartment behind. She drove until Louisville was nothing but a highway sign in
her rear-view mirror. She drove until the hopelessness in her was just
background noise to the sound of the tires on the pavement. Sasha didn’t
realize what she was driving toward until she crossed the Tennessee border.
Once the knowledge settled into her of where she was going, she felt calmer.
The beginnings of sunrise gradually lightened the gray landscape and soon she
was driving into the sun.
Davenport, Tennessee. The small town where she had
spent her adult life before Taylor Stables. The town where she’d known
happiness for the first time in her short life. It wasn’t long before she
reached the familiar winding road, the hilly landscape, the scrolling black
gate that was never shut. Then the tombstones.
She found him easily. He was right where she’d left
him last time. Gray marble headstone and slab in a sea of hundreds like it.
Marshall Taylor. Loving Husband. Treasured Friend.
Someone had put flowers on his gravestone recently.
Probably his wife. They were far from fresh but the violets had retained their
vibrant color. White baby’s breath blossoms scattered over the gray marble like
snow.
It had been a long time since she’d been to his
grave. Nearly five months now. She traced his name in the gravestone, wishing
for the thousandth time that it was someone else who had died in that car
crash. The drunk and high driver, not the devoted father of three, the faithful
husband, the trainer who had been like a father to her.
For the first time since the entire ordeal with James
began, Sasha allowed herself the tears of self pity. They fell from her now,
freely. Running down her face like rain from a storm tossed sky. She cried loud
wracking sobs until her body jerked in the early morning air, until her nose
ran and her eyes felt gritty, until her throat was hoarse from screaming.
She didn’t know if she was crying because of what
James had done to her or because she had no one to turn to now. She wanted to
rail at James, rail at the world. But wasn’t this her own fault that she hadn’t
taken better care of her life? Her own fault that she hadn’t built up a more
credible story and made something of her life that no reappearance of ghost of
lifetimes past and best forgotten could touch? She could have done better but
she had not. This was as much her fault as it was James’s. She was stupid. And
now she was paying for that stupidity.
Sasha cried with her back pressed to the headstone,
her head bowed. Gradually, slowly, she felt the sun on her face. It was warm,
touching her forehead with its friendly heat. And as she lifted her head,
warmth touched all of her face. She blinked into the sky.
For a moment, she felt like there was someone with her—Marshall?—and
she wasn’t afraid. She drew in deep breaths, let the tears fade away, allowed
the cries to dry up.  She tilted her head into the sun and felt as if
Marshall was there with her. She had never actually cried on his shoulder when
he was alive. He had only been there for her, encouraged her to do her best and
to be what she wanted instead of allowing her past life to determine her
future. He had been the guidance she lacked in her childhood. He had been the
father she wished she had been born with.
With her face lifted to the sky, she could almost
feel him, almost see his weather-beaten face, the bald head his wife insisted
he cover with sunscreen every day before going out with the horses. The smile
that made her believe in the goodness inside people again.
She remembered the last time she’d seen him, just
after she decided to accept the job at Taylor Stables instead of the one at
McGreevy’s. Marshall had told her to trust her gut, that it would not lead her
astray in this, one of the most important decisions of her life. The McGreevy
Stables were closer to the Tennessee border and of course, closer to Marshall,
but there had been something about the McGreevy trainer, Anthony something or
other, that she didn’t like. And so, she’d followed her gut, signing on with
Taylor Stables and leaving Marshall and the comfortable life she knew behind.
It had been one of the best decisions she’d ever
made. The only thing she regretted was not being there for Marshall and his
family when he had been hit by the drunk driver. She had driven the nearly four
hours from Louisville but by the time she pulled up in the hospital parking
lot, he was already dead.
The thought of it now made her sad, made new tears
start behind her eyes. But she looked up at the sun again, felt the life-giving
warmth and the tears dried. The heaviness gradually left her.
She remembered one of the last days that she and
Marshall had talked. She had been shocked that both Taylor Stables and
McGreevy’s were interested in hiring her.
“Believe in your abilities and in who you are. If you
don’t underrate yourself, kid, no one will either.” His way of telling her she
was worth every effort he had put into her, his way of saying she was simply
worthy of happiness.
Sasha remembered that last day they had ridden out
into the trail. A cloudy day, rain sprinkling down from the sky, a humid
Southern summer. Her horse rocked gently beneath her as they slowly made their
way through the trail, no destination in mind, simply a day to take out the horses
and get some fresh air. The appaloosa under her was a new horse and inclined to
buck, but Marshall had showed her how to control her, make smoothness of the
horse’s rough nature. She remembered the droplets of rain running down his bald
head, the feel of the water on her own face. That day had been contentment
itself, a realized dream of peace and simply happiness. And then Marshall was
gone.
Sasha leaned back against his tombstone with the
warmth of the sun on her face and a heaviness in her heart. She had been able
to tell him everything. He even knew about her brother, her parents, and the
hell she had been through to get where she was. And he had been supportive
beyond her wildest dreams. She missed Marshall. She missed him so much....
“I miss you,” she said out loud.
The sound of her voice in the quiet morning sounded
so right, so natural that she said the words again. Then she began to tell
Marshall everything. Sharing with him the bitterness and pain of the last few
weeks under her brother’s thumb. The happiness she’d found with Damien. Her win
at the Derby. The terror she felt at the prospect of losing it all.
“Until now, I never truly felt I’d had anything to
lose. And now that I have so much, I’m only a breath away from losing it all.”
But as she talked, she remembered thinking the same
with Marshall all those years ago, feeling the need to share with him but not
wanting him to think badly of her for the life she’d come from. That fear had
made her not trust him. But one night, after waking from one of her frequent
nightmares about her family coming back to claim her and pull her back down
into their drug- and alcohol-fueled existence, she left her bed for the
stables. Filled with terror, she had sat in the hay while the horses slept,
trembling. Marshall had come in and she told him everything. Everything.
For a long time, she’d thought that back then, things
were different. Now, she had more to lose. More at stake. But with the sound of
her lonely voice in the early morning air, the desolation that even she heard,
Sasha realized that without taking a chance, without giving respect and trust
and honesty, there was no chance in hell of her getting any in return. And that
was what trapped her with her brother and his wicked schemes.
She was just as trapped in the past, mentally
imprisoned in that trailer, just as her brother was. The only difference was
that James lashed out in cruelty to pretend he wasn’t still there while she
curled up in her corner trying to slip into the darkness, curling into herself
and hoping no one noticed her. She wasn’t a snail. She wasn’t an ostrich. And
it was time she stopped living like one.
You should tell Damien.
The words came as clearly as if Marshall had bent
down and whispered them in her ear. Sasha shivered despite the morning warmth.
Yes, she had to tell him. Just like Marshall had listened when she had the
dilemma of which stable to go with, just as he’d been there through so many
other decisions and crises in her life, perhaps Damien would be there for her
too.
Sasha sighed and lay back on the grave, the marble
supporting her entire body like a bed while the sunlight poured down into her
skin, filling her with warmth and a hope, even a slim one, that things could
get better.
“I’ll tell him,” she said. Then she closed her eyes
and slept peacefully for the first time in weeks.

Sasha left the stables with her heart pounding heavily in her chest. It was the
end of the work day and most of the daytime staff had gone home. After
finishing with Linc and the horses for the day, she had taken a shower, washed
her hair, changed into a dress, blow-dried her hair and brushed it until she
felt somewhat confident about her looks.
Once she told him the story of her life and how she
had gotten here, once she told him about her brother, the drugs, and jail, she
wanted to look as different as possible from the dirty, trailer-trash, daughter
of drugged out alcoholics, and sister of an ex-con he would then know she was.
The dress was a simple. White, with a sheer
over-skirt featuring a giant red poppy. A black bow bisected the dress just
under her breasts. It was sleeveless and showed off her tanned shoulders and
faintly muscular but still feminine arms. Her hair was in loose and shiny waves
around her face and shoulders, brushed to a high gloss. Red lipstick the same
shade as the poppy on her dress complemented the Cupid’s bow of her mouth.
She felt confident and capable. Ready to have a
difficult and adult conversation with a man she may very well lose afterward. A
tremor of apprehension moved through Sasha, but she was determined to go ahead with
her decision.
You should tell Damien
, Marshall had said
.
And she would.
Sasha took another deep breath. Dried her damp palms
on her skirt as she walked through the house and made her way toward Damien’s
study. Since driving back from Davenport, she’d run through the scenario of
telling Damien the truth at least a dozen times in her mind. Each time with a
different result. Finally, she’d just had to shut down her brain and allow her
body to lead her where she needed to be. Which was in Damien’s study to tell
him everything.
As she approached the door to the study, it opened
and Linc walked out. He looked absently down at some papers in his hands while
a frown marred his normally cheerful features. He looked up as he closed the
door behind him.
“Hey, Linc!” She greeted him with a quick smile
although feeling far from happy.
“What are you still doing here? I thought you went
home.” He rolled the sheaf of papers in his hand into a cylindrical shape. His
frown disappeared as he rapped the rolled papers into his open palm.
Tap.
Tap. Tap.
“Not yet,” Sasha said. “I wanted to discuss something
with Damien first.”
Linc’s frown returned. “You’re not quitting, are
you?”
“No way!” She stretched out her smile. “The only way
you’re going to get rid of me is by firing me.”
“Good.” His troubled gaze looked her over. “I was
worried for a second there. You look a little tense.”
“I am a little, I guess.” She blew errant strands of
hair from her eyes, shrugged. “Dealing with some family stuff.”
“Family?”
She’d never mentioned her family to him before and
the frown cut even more deeply into his forehead. Before he could say anything
else, she waved a dismissive hand.
“Don’t ask. I’ll tell you about it some other time.”
He examined her again, as if trying to make sure she
was telling the truth. Then he squeezed her shoulder. “All right. And don’t be
nervous about talking with Damien. If there’s anyone in the world who would
understand and empathize, it’s him.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “See you
next week.”
“Okay. Thanks. See you.” Her own smile was a little
shaky but at least she managed one.
She waited until he had disappeared around a corner
before knocking on her lover’s door. Through the thick oak, she could hear the
faint sounds of conversation. Either he had someone else in there with him or
he was on the phone.
“Come in!” His raised voice came clearly through the
door.
Sasha took another breath and turned the handle,
stepped inside. Damien was on the phone. As soon as she walked into the room,
he waved her in. Even from her place by the door, she could see the tension in
his face. He stood behind the desk, a hand in his pocket, his posture stiff and
angry. He frowned down at his open laptop.
“Tell Anthony Barnes he can go fuck himself.” His
tone was cold but the fury beneath was palpable. “I don’t respond well to
threats or to blackmail. If McGreevy thinks this is the way to get to me, he’s
sadly mistaken. Unlike Barnes, I don’t make threats, I make promises.”
Sasha came deeper into the study, walked to the wide
set of French doors overlooking the green and manicured lawn, a rose garden in
full bloom. She deliberately tuned out the rest of what Damien was saying,
giving him privacy although he hadn’t asked for it.
Behind her, the fury emanating from him was palpable,
beating at her in waves although it wasn’t directed at her. Whoever he was
talking about was making Damien angry in a way that Sasha had never seen. She
stiffened as his tone grew increasingly cold, her eyes staring outside but
paying little attention to what was beyond the window.
In a way, she envied him the free reign of his anger,
the way he expressed it with the certainty that whoever had wronged or upset
him would know he wasn’t pleased. That person would probably change their
behavior before Damien delivered on his “promise” of retribution. She envied
his power. Envied him his strength and his ability to control the things around
him.
Sasha’s mind flickered to James again, to what she
would say to Damien once he was finished with his phone call. The rehearsed
words ebbed and flowed in her mind, so simple yet so life-changing. So
difficult to release from her mouth. Behind her, Damien hung up the phone with
a sharp click. She turned around to see him staring into space, a muscle ticking
in his jaw. Then he blinked, turned to look at her, his gaze still clouded by
whatever it was that was on his mind. His blue eyes were stormy, filled with a
quiet yet powerful anger. Instantly, Sasha made a decision.
She walked to him, slowly crossing the room until she
stood in front of him. His eyes followed her progress. Predatory. Intent. When
Sasha stood directly before him, she raised her hands to lay her palms flat
against his chest. She felt his heartbeat thump firmly under her hands. Strong
and steady. The lush fringe of his dark blond lashes lowered over his bright
blue eyes for an electrified moment. Then they flickered up. His eyes drank her
in. The anger still rolled off his body, fury, barely contained but that slowly
began to clear from him the longer she touched him.
He cleared his throat. “I didn’t expect to see you
until later,” he said. Low voiced. Rough voiced. As if he’d been shouting or
chewing glass.
“What I want to say to you couldn’t wait.” She slowly
moved her hands up and over his shoulders, fingers sinking into the soft cotton
of his suit jacket.
He was warm through the fabric. Hard. Tense.
Everything she had prepared for flew out of her mind. She latched onto the
excuse not to talk to him about her problems. To push the awfulness that was
dealing with James away from her for a little while longer.
“Let me soothe you,” she said.
A brief smile moved across his face. “I don’t think I
can be soothed just now.” But his hand touched her back, her waist, drifted
down to settle on her ass. A warm stream of air blew against her face as he
released a long breath.
“Are you sure?” Sasha asked.
She stepped away from him, the breeze from her
movements stirring the skirts of her dress. Slowly, she unzipped the dress then
stepped out of it, revealing the simple, if unexciting lace lingerie she wore
beneath it. She hadn’t planned for sex, so she was glad that she’d at least
matched the plain black lace underwear, that it was relatively new and
displayed her body to perfection. Then Sasha knelt in front of him, her head
held submissively down to look at the floor while she rested her palms on her
knees.
“Take me,” she said. “Let me distract you. I am yours
to do with whatever you will.”
She felt powerful in her submission. In knowing that
she had the strength to shape her considerably will to, in this moment,
pleasing her man. And that, as a result of submitting, pleasure would come to
her from it.
Suddenly, anger was the last thing she felt from
Damien. His shoes came into her limited field of vision. Black wingtips, the
elegantly draped hem of his trousers. Then a hand on her hair, lightly, a
surprising tenderness. Then he yanked her head back. His blue eyes had darkened
until they were early black.
Sasha made a soft noise as he jerked his hands again
in her hair. The pain of his hands in her hair sparked a jolt of arousal
between her legs. For a moment it worried her. What was she becoming that this
simple pain inflicted by Damien could make her burn so hot, so quickly? She
squirmed, the plumping pussy lips between her legs deliciously sensitive. Her
neck was bent at a painful angle, her lips parted. She licked them as she
stared up at him. A low growl came from his throat.
“You look so fuckable on your knees like that. Is
this what you planned when you asked to speak with me?”
“No.”
He yanked her hair again. “No?”
She shook her head, deliberately feeding herself more
pain. Damien made another sound. A rough sound of need and surprise.
“Put my cock in your mouth.”
She moved to act without hesitation. Unzipping the
already tented slacks. Sasha pulled out his thick cock, her mouth already
watering to taste it. To her surprise, she realized her hands were shaking
while her pussy was liquid and hot with her arousal. She bit her lip against a
moan, realizing how turned on she was, how desperate she was to feel his
thickness in her mouth, to please him. And because she wanted him so badly, she
took it slowly. Slowly.
Sasha stroked his beautiful cock. Forced herself to
slow down by looking at its powerful beauty, the width of it, the prominent
veins flushed with blood just under the sensitive skin, the wide, blood-thick
head. His cock stood up firm and strong from the nest of dark blond hairs,
curving up slightly to the left. His balls were heavy and dark. She cupped them
in her palm. Above her, Damien made another strangled sound.
He was the biggest man she’d ever been with. His cock
a thing of beauty that had brought her to pleasure more times than she could
remember.
She anticipated how his cock would feel on her
tongue. The sounds he would make. She gripped his thick and throbbing length,
leaned forward. Licked the thick head, the salt and musk of his body floated
over her tongue. She moaned against him, her pussy tightening with arousal and
the pleasure of touching him.
“No.” He wrenched her head back. “Don’t play with
me,” he ground out. “You won’t like my response.” His expression was
unreadable, his eyes dark and bottomless. He tightened his grip in her hair,
jerked her closer to his cock, the meaty flesh slapping against her cheek.
“Suck it. Don’t play with me.”
Sasha hid a smile at the desperation in his voice.
Despite the fact that she was the one on her knees, he was the one at her
mercy, his voice strained with desire, his cock weeping for her attentions.
Power moved through her, flooding her pussy even more with wetness and heat.
She opened her mouth and licked the head of his cock again, wetting the soft
flesh with her tongue, sighing at the bitter-sweet taste of his pre-cum.
She gathered his balls in her hand, fisted the other
around his length and slowly stroked him as she licked the crown of him like a
kitten at her cream. Sasha moaned as she licked, but did not take him fully
into her mouth, did not give him the relief of surrounding him with the wet
cavern of her mouth. She licked him one more time, parted her lips around the
firm crown, swirled her tongue around the massive tip of him. He tried to shove
deeper into her mouth, but she wouldn’t let him, instead maintaining control of
the wide head and sucking on it like a ripe plum.
Damien growled in frustration. Yanked her head back
away from him and shoving her backward until she rocked back on her heels.
Sasha blinked in confusion, licked the remnants of his pre-cum from her lips.
His eyes blazed with anger and frustration, the
breath came quickly from his parted lips, and the color was high in his cheeks.
He stood only a few feet away, neatly clad in his suit and tie, every part of
him perfectly in place except for his cock thrusting aggressively through the
opening in his pants.
Damien stalked to his desk and yanked open a drawer.
A few moments later, he was standing in front of her again, the collar she had
given him in his hands. He buckled it around her neck, thrust his fingers
through the O ring and used it to drag her across the carpeted floor to the
sofa. The leather pulled at her neck, rubbing her flesh even as the carpet
abraded her knees and legs. He flung her, face down, into the couch.
“Don’t move.” His breath came quickly, roaring past
his mouth.
The sound of his leather belt unbuckling, Damien
yanking it from his belt loops. Sasha gasped quietly at the harsh sounds. Maybe
she had gone too far. She’d never done this before, never brought him to such a
place of need and anger. He seemed flushed with frustration now, a difference
from the anger that had claimed him just a few minutes before. Now, he was
completely focused on her, his eyes, his passion, his frustration. And she had
wanted it. She had created this. But was she ready for the consequences?
Damien held the belt double in his hands, sank into
the sofa and dragged her into his lap in one motion, her ass in the air and her
face pressed into the arm of the sofa.