Awakening (3 page)

She couldn’t remember a single time in her life where she hadn’t had to resort to the fantasy of rough sex in order to have an orgasm. She couldn’t relate to the romance novels she read where women got so caught up in the moment with their lover that all it took was sensation alone to make them climax. She’d always wondered if something was wrong with her because not once in her entire sexual experience had she ever been so lost in sensation or caught up in the moment that the grocery list or some other chore wasn’t running through her head.

She couldn’t even get away with faking an orgasm, because Charlie wouldn’t let her. He wouldn’t come until she did, but she’d always had to be the one to ratchet the tempo up between her and Charlie and she’d always felt foolish doing so. Over time, she’d grown to dislike gentle sex, and it was the only kind she’d had for the entirety of her adult life. Charlie was a skilled and attentive lover in the beginning of their relationship; after she’d betrayed him one time too many, he’d been a bystander just lying there while she rutted over him to get them both off. Or just sticking it in and pumping for his own gratification. Her orgasm had become her sole responsibility.

After a while, it was easier just to suck him off and take care of her own business in the shower where she didn’t have to face his silent resentment during such an intimate act. It had taken 14 years for her to get up the courage to finally give him his freedom.

But, oh my God, she’d almost come just from reading the words. She literally had been so caught up that she’d forgotten everything around her. It was as if she’d become Carol and it had been Claire submitting to Sir. She shivered as tendrils of sensation whispered through her at the memory of his domination. But, just her luck, Mr Rugged had witnessed her arousal and obviously been disgusted by her. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what her ragged breathing and hard nipples meant. Claire just prayed he didn’t know which book she’d been reading.

Remembering his brusque admonishment to check out, her cheeks flamed again. She’d go ahead and buy the books, since she’d spent several hours taking up space in his store, but it looked like she’d have to find another club. There was no way she was coming back here.

Evan sat rigidly behind the counter waiting for the woman to come and buy her books. He’d already straightened up the front tables and begun the nightly paperwork. Now, if only his goddamned dick would cooperate he could calm down. He was disgusted with himself. Getting a fucking hard-on like he was a teenager at the sight of a woman’s erect nipples. What the hell was wrong with him? OK, so he hadn’t had been with a woman since Marianne had died, but so fucking what. He hadn’t wanted to. It wasn’t that he no longer had the urge; he just couldn’t bring himself to be with some random woman or to take a casual lover. And what could this woman be to him, other than something casual? She wasn’t Marianne. Enough said.

He’d tried once to be with a woman, about six months after Marianne died, and it had been a disaster for both of them. He hadn’t even been able to get hard. He’d simply given her a session and used toys on her until she came. She’d asked to see him again, but he’d turned her away as diplomatically as possible and then proceeded to drink himself into a stupor to forget.

At first, it had been hard to go without sex. He’d get so horny he wouldn’t be able to sit still, but it always ended the same way – he’d masturbate in the shower to images of Marianne and by the time his come was jetting the tears would be streaming. After a while, he just couldn’t take the pain any longer. Now, he was just numb.

At least, he had been until tonight. This was the first spontaneous erection he’d had in the two years since her death, but what he and Marianne had shared had been soul deep and, having had that, he didn’t want a poor substitute who would only remind him of how empty he already was without her.

Marianne had been his wife, his lover, his soulmate, and his submissive for ten years before she’d died of ovarian cancer. Evan had known the moment he’d met her that she was going to be his. She had taken a bit more convincing. She was a fiery and fiercely independent woman who had nonetheless taken to submitting to him like a duck to water once he’d dared her to stop being a coward and try it. Marianne had been a sucker for a dare.

Pain squeezed Evan’s chest at the memories flooding his mind. He missed her so much. They were supposed to grow old together. He wasn’t supposed to be here by himself. She wasn’t supposed to abandon him. Evan’s eyes burned and he clenched his teeth against the grief that threatened to well up. Evan took a deep breath and pushed memories of Marianne away. No time for that now.

He flicked a glance to the back of the store, but there was no sign of her.
Jesus!
What the hell was taking her so long? Evan just wanted her gone. He wanted her out of his store, and the sooner, the better. He stood up to go remind her, again, to check out, knocking his stool back and almost tipping it over in his haste to run her out of the store. By the time he’d righted the stool, however, she was there setting her books gently, almost hesitantly, on the counter without looking at him and then digging in her satchel for her wallet.

‘Driver’s licence,’ he gritted out as he put out his hand palm up. About damn time.

‘Huh?’ She looked up, flushing slightly as she met his gaze, and delicately arched brows crinkled over her large, hazel eyes. ‘I’m sorry, why do you need my driver’s licence?’ Her voice was soft, tentative almost, but with a smoky, deep quality. It rubbed his skin like silk and he gritted his teeth in aggravation.

‘For the discount. For the book club.’ His tone all but screamed “Duh!”, and he knew he was being rude, but he didn’t seem able to help himself. He wanted her gone.

‘Oh, um, no thanks.’ She shook her head, sending the honey-brown curtain swinging, and waved a dismissive hand. ‘There’s no need.’ She flushed deeper and looked back down into her satchel where she appeared to finally locate her wallet and pulled it out.

‘What do you mean?’ he snapped. ‘You’re a member of the book club. You’re buying the next book for discussion –’ he pointed to the paperback on the top of the stack ‘– and I gave my word that all members would get the discount. Now, your driver’s licence, please, so I can put you into the system.’

‘No, really. It isn’t necessary. Please just ring me out and I’ll be on my way.’ She seemed to flush even deeper, if that were possible. She also seemed to be very fixated on a spot over his shoulder since she was refusing to look at him.

‘Look, lady. I’m not having Jean down my back because I didn’t keep my word.’ He glared at her. The rational part of his brain was screaming at him to calm down and stop acting like an ass, but the air conditioning had kicked on and he could smell her now. Her light, floral scent whispered across his nose and his dick had just rejoined the party. It was taking immense self-control not to reach in and adjust himself.

Rather than hand over her ID, she took a step back from the counter, squeezed her eyes shut, and took several deep breaths, which, of course, meant Evan was once again staring at her tits.
Aaaaaaaah!
The mental scream resonated around his brain like an echo. He didn’t understand where this anger was coming from. It wasn’t like him to be this undisciplined.

She opened her eyes, lifted her chin and met his glare, ‘I won’t be back, so don’t worry about it. Now, please ring me up or I can just leave the books here.’

A flash of panic surged through Evan, followed closely by shame. Not coming back? He wanted her to leave, yes, he needed some breathing room. He wasn’t trying to run her away for good. Evan prided himself on providing a friendly environment and he had a large number of loyal customers. Her hazel gaze never wavered, though; she meant it.

On the heels of that realisation, as if a pin had been pushed into a balloon, his anger deflated, leaving him cold and embarrassed by his behaviour. Taking a deep, deep breath and blowing it out, Evan closed his eyes for a moment, before looking at her once again.

‘Look, I’m sorry.’

‘Huh?’ she scowled. His apology had clearly not been what she was expecting.

Evan blew out another deep breath. ‘I apologise for my rudeness. It’s been, well, it’s been a very trying night for me, but I’m taking it out on you and I apologise for that.’ He pulled his stool closer and sat down in an effort to relax. ‘Please, don’t let my stupidity keep you from coming back. I’m not the asshole I’m pretending to be right now. I just … Well, I’m sorry.’

‘Pretending? If that’s an act, you should be on stage.’

Evan barked a laugh at that and she smirked at him. Not so meek after all.

‘OK.’ He smiled at her then. ‘You got me there. Will you please let me process your membership and come back next week? If I have to tell Jean that you didn’t come back because of me, she’ll have my hide.’

Her face fell and she shook her head. ‘That’s OK. I’m not sure it’s the right place for me. Besides, she won’t even know I’m gone. I barely participated.’

‘Oh, she’ll know. Jean is like a mother hen. Once someone steps through those doors for her club, they are indelibly marked in her brain. She knows every member and remembers every drop-out. So, please, let me?’

She stared at him for several moments with narrowed eyes. Evan could imagine the wheels turning in her mind, but finally she just nodded once – a sharp, quick movement of her head – and dug out her ID which she handed to him, being very careful not to touch his skin.

Another flash of shame shot through him. He’d really succeeded in being an ass tonight. Marianne would’ve been so disappointed in him. Grief surged through him again and he ruthlessly shoved it down and began to type in her contact information. Once he’d setup her account and rung out her books, he placed the receipt in her bag and handed it to her.

‘Thank you, Ms Ryan. I mean that. You really saved me.’ He tried for a smile, but it felt more like a grimace.

‘Right.’ She smirked again, her tone faintly sarcastic.

‘Will you be back?’ he called after her as she headed for the door. He’d meant every word he’d said about Jean. He did not want to piss her off.

‘Yessir.’ It was said in the offhand way people do when they aren’t really thinking about their response and they don’t know the person well enough to address them by name, but Evan’s body didn’t care. All it heard was “sir” and he felt his cock start to leak.

Mo-ther-fuck-er!

‘Evan,’ he growled. ‘Evan, not sir.’

She stopped with her hand on the door at his tone. Her eyes snapped to his and widened at whatever she saw there. Quirking her head to the side, she contemplated him for a few moments before narrowing her eyes again. ‘Yes … Evan … I’ll be back.’

Without another look his way, she left the store. A sharp, stabbing pain shot up his arm and Evan looked down to see the pencil he’d been holding was now splintered and digging into in his palm.

Fuck.

Chapter Three – New Pleasure, Old Pain

F
RAGRANT RIBBONS OF
steam curled around Claire as she drifted in the tub. This was one of her favourite activities, but not one she indulged in often. She kept her life very scheduled, and a leisurely soak in the tub generally didn’t fit into that category. Tonight, though, she felt too edgy, too out of sorts. It was as if an electrical current was running under her skin and she couldn’t relax. So, instead of her usual efficient shower, she was now soaking in her white, claw-foot tub in her darkened bathroom lit only with melon-scented candles. She’d added a few drops of almond oil to the water and the silky heat was soothing, but that edge was still there.

It definitely wasn’t the atmosphere that was preventing her from relaxing. She’d spent a lot of time on her bathroom to get it just right. She’d always wanted a bathroom that felt like a spa. The walls were a delicate blue with white wainscoting. Her tub was tucked into the alcove formed by the bay window and had shelving installed at either end for her candles and jars of oil. When she did soak, she liked to crack the wooden shade to gaze at the night sky or to cloud watch depending on the time of day. The rest of the bathroom was functional and efficient, with a separate shower tucked into one corner. A white vanity and large mirror took up the wall opposite the tub. White tile and stainless steel fixtures rounded out the decor. She was neat by nature and didn’t like clutter, so the only things on top of her vanity were her toothbrush and toothpaste and a bottle of soap. Everything else was efficiently organised in bins and baskets under the sink.

She knew what was going on; she just didn’t want to face it. Ever since she’d read that story in
Finding Herself
it had been as if she had ants under her skin. She’d also stayed aroused. Her jeans had rubbed against her the entire walk home. Once inside, she’d changed into some sweats just to relieve the pressure before letting Chester out of his crate. To make matters worse, as if she weren’t uncomfortable enough, he’d barrelled into her and shoved his face into her crotch before quirking his head and looking up at her inquiringly. How embarrassing that the dog she’d had for two years had never scented sexual arousal on her, making it a new scent that needed cataloguing. She’d pushed him away and made him sit, but it had embarrassed her nonetheless.

After walking Chester and dealing with the usual nasty looks she got every time she took her Pitbull out in the little urban, artsy community she lived in, she’d come home and fixed a simple garden salad and a glass of Sangria for dinner. As she ate, she’d reflected on the exchange with Bibliophile’s owner. She didn’t understand why he’d asked her to come back after being so obviously disgusted with her. She’d meant it when she’d said she had no intention of returning to the store. She was mortified at her behaviour and humiliated at his having witnessed it. He’d seemed sincere, though. At least, she’d thought he’d gotten over whatever the issue was until she’d called him sir. Then he’d acted as if she’d stabbed him with a hot poker.