Michaels, Skye - Mikaela's Debut [The Black Dahlia Hotel 1] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic) (6 page)

She picked up the last box and unwrapped it. Finally, the flat, square black velvet box sat naked on the table. She picked it up. She slowly opened the lid and peeked in. The sparkle of more diamonds greeted her eyes. She popped it open the rest of the way. Resting on a bed of black velvet was a tennis necklace of round-cut diamonds set in white gold. The biggest stones were front and center, and they graduated from a carat in the middle to smaller stones at the clasp in the back. Mikaela gasped. “Dillon, this is gorgeous. I can’t believe you did this.” She picked up the strand of diamonds, put it around her neck, and deftly fastened it. She got up and tried to walk with dignity back into the suite to look in the mirror again. It was hard, but she could do it.
Dignified. Slow. Not going to run to the mirror
.

“Dillon…” She came running back out to the balcony and jumped into his lap. “I love it, love it, love it.”

“Well, gee, I was hoping you would love it.”

“You silly man. I love them all, but that was really way, way over the top.”

“I wanted to get an engagement ring, but I know you’re not quite ready for that yet. You look beautiful, baby. What could be more perfect than
Breakfast at The Black Dahlia
, in diamonds?”

“I think that was
Breakfast at Tiffany’s
, Dillon.”

“The heck with that. This is much better.” She had to agree.

“Oh! In all the excitement I almost forgot your presents.” She took the two boxes out of her pocket. She handed him the first one and watched as he carefully opened the paper. She was a ripper. Dillon was a peeler. Finally, he had the package unwrapped. He held the hand-carved wooden box in his hand. He lifted the lid, and she watched his eyes get wide for a moment as he held up the solid-gold, engraved pocket watch with the heavy gold chain and the ten-ruble gold coin set in a bezel attached to the end as a fob. She smiled at him. “That belonged to my great grandfather on my mother’s side and came to this country with him from Russia. He immigrated to Canada first and then came across the border on a motorcycle as an illegal immigrant. He fled Stalin and the new communist regime with nothing but this watch. The engraving on the inside is a picture of the family dacha, or country home, and the little bird represents happiness. I don’t know how far back in the family this piece goes. But I want you to have it.”

“Mikaela, this is a wonderful present. I will treasure it, and someday, it will go to our son.”

“There’s one more box.” She waited impatiently while he carefully opened the long, narrow second box. When he held the box in his hand, she said, “Open it.” He did. He took out the thin, gold Omega wristwatch with the soft, black lizard band. “That was my father’s watch. He didn’t take it on that last trip.” Her eyes started to tear up.

“Oh, baby. Come here. There aren’t any presents in the world that could mean more to me than these.” He strapped on the watch as she climbed into his lap and buried her face in his neck.

“Really?”

“Really. Now I’ll feel like Mike Sexton is standing at my side the next time I go at it with Joe.” He admired the thin, quarter-sized gold case nestled in the fine, dark hair on his wrist. She knew he had never cared for the current fashion of big, thick watches for men, much preferring the Swiss craftsmanship that went into building the wafer-thin works of art.

* * * *

Dillon cuddled Mikaela in his lap as they finished their coffee. The sun was sparkling off the stones at her ears, wrist, and neck. He was happy with the selections. He’d had the help of the family jeweler. He’d told Mr. Goldberg that he wanted the best, and he wasn’t disappointed.

“Why don’t we take a little nap and then go down to the beach? I’ve been dying to try the parasailing. What do you think?”

“Okay. Are you sure it’s safe?” He knew she wasn’t a fan of heights, but she wouldn’t want to disappoint him. If he was excited about something, she wouldn’t have the heart to say no.

“Yes, or they wouldn’t be doing it out there in front of the hotel. I don’t see piles of bodies lying around.”

“They could be lost at sea and end up fish food.”

“We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

He watched her suck it up for him, and he felt a fist squeeze around his heart. “No, we’ll try it. If I hate it you will be sorry, Dillon Cavanaugh. That’s all I have to say—very sorry.” He laughed and hugged her tight. What a woman. And she was his.

* * * *

By Saturday afternoon Dillon realized that both their nerves were getting frazzled as they waited for news from Morgan Court’s people. Mikaela thought he didn’t see her checking YouTube on her phone every few minutes. He wished there was something he could do for her. He was becoming crazed himself.

While Mikaela was sunning at the pool with her Kindle in one hand and her iPhone in the other, he went to meet Jamie Devereau and Dane Dunross in the bar for a beer. “I have to tell you guys, this is really getting to me. I think the waiting is worse than the actual posting of a new video. Mikaela is checking her phone every few minutes.”

“She told Anne that she was more worried about you and your campaign than about herself. She doesn’t want to be responsible for a blowup between you and your father. She feels she’s a free agent with no one to answer to, but that you have a lot of family obligations.”

“Well, there will probably be a blowup. I can’t say I want one, but I’m getting damn tired of Joe Cavanaugh thinking he runs my life. I love my parents. Joe has good intentions, but he can be a royal pain in the ass.”

“I think you can say that about a lot of parents who have big ambitions for their kids. Thankfully, I don’t have that problem. My old man is dead and unlamented.”

Dane said, “Hopefully you’ll hear something from Court soon. Maybe a good session in the dungeon will help you both work out some frustrations. Do you want me to reserve a theme room for you?”

“Yeah. How about that French Bordello Room for five o’clock with champagne and hors d’oeuvres? I think that would be good for both of us.”

* * * *

Mikaela knew Dillon was trying to distract her with a trip to the dungeon, and she appreciated his efforts. She hoped she would be able to relax enough to enjoy it. Waiting for the other shoe to drop was really taking it out of her. She had a rental car in the parking lot, and an overnight bag and her stash of money were locked in the trunk. If she needed to leave, she only had to pick up her handbag and walk out the door. She thought she would drive to Orlando and pick up a flight to Chicago. She could stay in Chicago for a day or two, and then go on to San Francisco. She had plenty of cash and untraceable gift cards so she should be fine for the amount of time she would need for the first rush of media excitement over the scandal to die down. She dreaded hearing her name and seeing her face on all those celebrity news shows if the second video hit YouTube.

She didn’t plan to disappear forever—just until after the special election. Of course, she didn’t know if Dillon would ever forgive her or if his parents would be able to get past the scandal. That all remained to be seen. But first and foremost she had to know what the blackmailer intended to do and what his demands would be. Although tantalizing flashes of memory continued to go through her mind, she still was not able to recall the incident or the people involved. She thought maybe she would have better luck if she stopped trying so hard and just let her subconscious do the work. Actually doing that was very difficult however. She wanted to just keep worrying at the memory like a sore tooth until something substantive popped up.

She followed Dillon down the hall to one of the theme rooms. She loved the view of his muscular ass encased in the tight black leather pants. She had glimpses of his smooth, muscled chest when the black leather vest with the embossed pattern opened. He swiped the key card and opened the door. She hadn’t seen this room, and she was amazed. The room was opulent in a French style with a luxurious bed made up with silk bedding. The BDSM equipment was on a smaller scale than in the main dungeon but had just as many bells and whistles. The hotel’s staff really went the extra mile in everything they did. There was a bottle of champagne on ice and a tray of hors d’oeuvres on the credenza.

Dillon turned to her as soon as they were through the door. The scene was on. She dropped into the slave position and waited for his instructions. “Sub, disrobe and put on your cuffs.”

“Yes, Master.” She stood gracefully and went to the closet. She was grateful for the flexibility her yoga training gave her, or some of the positions required would be difficult. She particularly enjoyed the Shibari bondage, but hanging by ropes and pulleys from the ceiling could be taxing. She put her clothes and shoes in the closet and pulled the cuffs from Dillon’s toy bag. She donned the wrist and ankle cuffs. She stood with her head bowed and her hands clasped behind her back as he walked around her in inspection mode. That always made her a little nervous no matter how long they had been doing it. But then it was supposed to do that. The whole idea was to up the sexual tension and anxiety.

“I think you need that cute butt of yours warmed to start, subbie.” He sat in the armless tapestry-upholstered chair and gestured for her to lie across his lap. Her pussy clenched. She loved the vulnerable feeling that crawling into his lap always elicited. She loved the feel of his big hand on her bare butt and the hot, stinging sensation when he brought it down on her bottom. He didn’t stint. When she got her butt warmed, it was warm. The first smack was always an eye-opener. Sometimes he made her count strikes, and sometimes he just paddled her ass until he was satisfied with the degree of heat and redness. If he didn’t tell her to count she knew she was in for a good, old-fashioned spanking that would leave her bottom sore until the next day and her pussy hot and ready for his hard cock. The flip side of that coin was that she always felt a lessening of anxiety or tension in her body afterward. It almost felt like a tranquilizer. She knew she needed that now. She didn’t understand why she loved it so much. She hadn’t been spanked often as a child. It was just one of those mysteries of the human mind and body.

When he was done, he pulled her up into his arms and hugged her against his chest. “Better, baby?”

She gave a huge sigh. “Much better, Master.” They rested that way for a while before he stood up and carried her to the hanging chains. He had her arms bound above her head. Since he left her ankle cuffs free, she had an idea of what was coming. Of course, she would never admit that to him. He did totally surprise her sometimes though.

He slowly opened the front of his leathers, and his erect cock sprang out at attention. That he had not allowed her to touch him yet told her he planned to make this an epic encounter. He stood in front of her and looked down into her eyes, as though he searched her soul. “What are you not telling me, Mikaela? I know there’s something going on with you—other than the obvious, of course.” When she didn’t answer him, he crushed her mouth with a brutal kiss that took her breath away. His tongue drove hard and deep. His hands wandered over her body, skating over her hard nipples down her stomach to her pussy. He fingered her clit. She groaned, and he plunged two fingers into her center. “You’re ready for me, sub.” He boosted her up until her legs were wrapped around his waist. He adjusted himself and entered her in one swift, sure plunge while his big hands cupped her hot butt.

“Oh, Master. This is what I need. Fuck me. Fuck me hard.” He didn’t do the usual of starting out slow and easy and making her wait. He plunged in hard and fast, and the velvet walls of her vagina clutched his iron cock. She tightened her legs around his waist since she didn’t have the use of her hands to hold on. Her body arched against him. She took him deep and tried to hold him as though she would never let him go. He was hard as steel and pulsing with life. Who knew? This might be the last chance she had to make love with Dillon—her friend, her love, her Master.

* * * *

Dillon groaned as she rolled her hips to take him deeper. A shaft of intense pleasure speared through his body, but he fought it off. He was going to take her hard but not fast. This had to last. For some reason, he knew this was important—not just a trip to the dungeon for a good, hard fuck. Her moans were sweet music in his ears. His hips pumped with wild abandon as the urgent need rose up in him. At last white hot pleasure rushed through his veins as with a final powerful thrust his semen pulsed in her. Her dam burst and he felt her orgasm rip through her body. Her head dropped back, and he reached forward and nipped her neck, marking her as his. The relentless throbbing continued as he powered back up and pushed them both to a second climax. It was a perfect moment as his hot gaze caught her eyes. The maelstrom of hot emotions whirled through his mind as his body calmed and a haze of satisfaction settled over him.

“Will you trust me, Mikki? I can’t promise to stop bad things from happening, but I can promise to stick by you when they do. I love you, and you are everything to me.”

“You’re everything to me, too, Dilly. I trust you, but you have to trust me to know what the right thing to do is as well.”

“What does that mean, Mikki?” He was puzzled. That comment just seemed out of context. “We have to stand together on this. We can’t let anyone—blackmailers or family—call our shots for us.”