The Drake Restrained Collection: Part 1 and 2 (The Drake Series Book 3) (5 page)

It was Allie.

Allie showing up at O'Riley's was totally unacceptable.

For a moment, I saw her the way the guys would -- tall, athletic and with pretty features. She was beautiful. As if to please me and ward off my reprimand, she wore the black leather dress I liked and made her wear to dungeon parties. Her platinum blonde hair fell around her shoulders like satin and her makeup was perfect. Any man in the bar would have been pleased to have her at their beck and call.

She was also wearing leather wristbands that I used to restrain her during our scenes, as if to remind me who I was to her.

Her Master.

Ken dog-whistled and leaned in close. "Is that her?" 

"It is," I said, not pleased to see her at O'Riley's. "Excuse me for a minute."

"She's stunning," Cliff said, his eyes wide. "We never get to meet your mysterious women. I was starting to think you were lying about having a girl. Introduce us."

"I don't think so," I said. "Maybe some other time."

I left the three of them at the bar, knowing they would be gossiping about Allie while I was gone. I could almost feel their eyes on me as I threaded my way through the tables. A few customers stopped me to tell me they enjoyed the show, and I nodded, offering a polite thank you.

When she saw me approaching the table, she forced a smile, but I could tell she knew I wouldn’t be happy.

"Allie," I said and sat across from her. "You know this breaks the terms of our agreement."

"I wanted to talk to you tonight."

"We agreed to talk on Saturday night."

"I didn’t want to wait that long." She reached across the table and took my hand. I wanted to pull my hand away, but didn’t want to cause a scene.

"You shouldn't have come," I said.

"After all this time, you still don’t want me to hear you play? Christ, Drake," she said, her voice filled with emotion. "It's been eight months. Don't I deserve some little scrap of humanity from you?"

I pulled my hand away. "You have my complete and total focus sexually. That's all I can give, Allie. You knew that when you signed the contract."

"The contract is just for show, Drake. You know it's unenforceable."

"It is. If you're not happy with the terms, you can leave at any time."

"Just like that?" She shook her head, her eyes bright but I could tell she was fighting her emotions. "You feel
nothing
for me beyond sex? I feel like you know me more deeply than anyone else has,
ever
."

I glanced around, trying to decide how to handle her. I took in a deep breath and then leaned closer, my voice low but loud enough for her to hear me over the buzz of conversations around us.

"Allie, I know you
sexually
. That's it. I don’t know anything else besides the fact you're a law student. Nothing.” I exhaled. “I don't know what color you like, or your favorite dessert, or what movie you watch over and over again when you're sick, or even what kind of music you like.”

“I love
you
,” she said, her eyes brimming. “Don't you love me, even a bit?”

“No you
don’t
love me. Look, Allie,” I said, trying not to be too harsh. “I've been married. I know what love is. You can't
love
me if you know nothing about me. I can’t love you if I know nothing about you."

She forced a smile, as if to keep from crying.

"Don't you
want
to know me? God, Drake, I have sex with you three times a week. You know my secret desires. Are you so heartless that you don't care to know me more deeply?"

I sighed, exasperated. This was the talk I knew we'd have to have sooner or later. I hoped it would be later, because I still enjoyed Allie sexually, but she was transgressing the terms of our agreement. She was unable to keep it purely sexual.

"I know about you," she said and squeezed my hand once more.

"You weren't supposed to know anything about me. That was part of the contract. No asking questions, no doing research. No stalking."

"I'm not stalking you. For Christ's sake I fuck you three times a week. How can I stalk you?"

I shook my head, not sure of what to say.

"I asked around. I did some research. You're a neurosurgeon at NYP. You play in the band. You've been in the lifestyle for five years since your divorce from a nurse who used to work with you. Your father's dead. Drake," she said and leaned in closer. "I could love you, if you let me."

I shook my head. "Don’t do this. I can't do more. I don't
want
to do more." I sat in silence and we stared into each other's eyes as if waiting to see if the other would relent.

Tears finally spilled out from her eyes.

"I'm sorry," I said, shaking my head in disappointment. "I can't give more. You knew that when you signed."

"If you can't give me more, then it's over."

“I can’t.” I sighed and pulled out my keys from my jacket pocket and removed my key to Allie's apartment from my keychain. I placed it down firmly on the table across from her. "I didn't want to end it this way, but you're right. I guess it's over." I exhaled heavily as I slid it to her, exasperated that she was doing this now.

She stared at the key, her expression one of disbelief, her eyes wide. I could see that her cheeks were red even in the darkness of the room. She didn't really believe I'd break off the relationship, probably hoping that the mere threat of it would push me closer.

"Don’t do that," she said, her voice wavering. She pushed the key back towards me with a trembling hand. "Give me another chance. "

I shook my head. "I already gave you a second and third chance. You crossed the line too many times." I kept my voice firm, although I, too, was upset. I just couldn’t see any way around it. "You know the rules."

"You broke a promise. You
promised
to spend every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday evenings with me as long as we were together. I think I deserve to be upset."

I held up my hand. "I promised unless circumstances arose that were beyond my control. Mersey got an extra gig, and it was a chance to get more practice in before our big show on Friday. I had no choice."

"You
always
have a choice." Her voice broke and she brushed tears from her cheeks quickly. "You
choose
to put your band ahead of me. You
choose
to be unknowable, as if you can keep things all neat and tidy between us. All you want is a few good orgasms a week so that nothing like real emotion interferes with your perfect little
life
."

"You knew when you signed my contract that we would just be play partners, nothing more," I countered, but her assessment of me stung just a bit. "You told Lara and you told me you didn’t
want
anything more."

"After all this time?" Her tears were flowing now. "You couldn't find it in your heart to let me come and listen to your band play? You
are
heartless."

I shook my head. Other men might give in, try to make things work, but I couldn't have her breaking the terms of our contract that way. If I let her, she'd try to break all the terms, and that wouldn't do.

Three times in the past month, she'd tried to go beyond the careful margins I'd drawn between my life as a Dominant and the rest of my life as a surgeon and musician.

She'd asked me to stay the night once after a very long session where I had tried some new rope tricks with her. I'd refused. I didn't stay with my submissives. It was a Tuesday and I had an early surgery scheduled the next day. Then, she'd asked me to come to her apartment early and have supper with her on a Saturday night. I refused once more, reminding her that I didn't do meals with my subs. The only thing I ate when we were together was her.

Finally, she'd asked earlier that night if she could come and listen to Mersey play at O'Riley's. I told her no. My music and my sex life did
not
mix.

"You know," she said finally, her voice breaking. "I listened to those songs you sang. That one – the one where you say you have a heart of stone?" She stood, pushing her chair back so hard, it fell over. "You don’t even have a heart." Then she grabbed her bag off the table and stormed out without looking back, the key left on the table in front of me.

I stood and righted her chair then turned back to the bar, my friends staring at me, expressions of surprise and interest clear on their faces. Now, I'd have to tell them we broke up.

I checked my watch. Our next set was due to start in a few minutes. Luckily, there wasn't time for them to demand a full debrief.

I sighed and went to the stage, bypassing them so I could avoid even having to discuss what just happened, the key to her apartment left behind on the table.

CHAPTER FOUR

The next week went as usual, except I didn’t go to see Allie on the appointed nights. Each weekday morning, I woke to my alarm at six. Showered, grabbed a coffee and toast. Dressed. Drove to New York Presbyterian where I had a full slate of surgeries booked.

I purposely didn’t think about Allie, immersing myself in my cases, consciously blocking out her words about me. I knew about denial, having studied psychoanalysis briefly during my undergrad. If I kept myself busy enough, I wouldn’t have time to mourn the end of the relationship.

If my personal life had gone to shit, at least my work as a surgeon was going well.

After dictating my surgical reports and checking in on my patients, I left NYP and took my car to meet Lara for lunch at a café near the hospital. I knew she would have heard from Allie about our breakup and would want to interrogate me about it.

I arrived, still wearing my scrubs, and after placing my order at the counter, I went to the table. Lara looked impeccable, as usual, wearing an expensive suit, her hair tidy in a smooth updo. She had her usual salad and espresso. The café was busy at this time of day, so we sat in a corner for added privacy. The noise of patrons talking, the clink of glasses and cutlery, helped mask our discussion.

"Drake," she said before I even sat down, her voice sounding irritated. "I hear you and Allie ended it in a bad way. That's not like you. You should have called me sooner."

I sat across from her, surprised at her tone.

"She wanted more," I said plainly. "I can't give it."

Lara sighed and shook her head. "She told me you broke up with her in public."

"I had no choice," I said, feeling defensive. "She came to O'Riley's."

"So?" Lara said. "I've heard you play before."

"You're my friend."

"Can't you be friends with your subs?"

"I have all the friends I need. I need a fuck partner who likes a bit of kink. Look," I said, impatient with her. "I
told
Allie from the start that our relationship would be strictly sexual. Nothing more. She wanted to be my girlfriend, Lara. I don't do girlfriends. You know that."

"Poor Drake. Still hurting after all this time? Still have mommy issues?"

I frowned. "What are you talking about?"

She shook her head and said nothing but I knew damn well what she meant. She was referring to my divorce from Maureen and the loss of my mother when I was ten.

It was after my divorce that Lara and I became reacquainted after a decade being apart, each pursuing our own lives. We met in an abnormal psychology class when we both studied sexual perversions of the sadomasochistic variety. She took the class because she
was
a sadist and I did because I was fascinated with those who were obsessed with pain, giving it and receiving it.

I didn't want to give pain. I wanted to cure it.