Mine

15. Pepper

FIFTEEN

PEPPER

I did exactly as Salt told me to on Tuesday evening.

I wore a red dress, black heels, and black pantyhose.

And that was all.

The work day had flown by and I was all too aware of the fact that he was meeting with Tommy on Friday morning. If their meeting went well, I’d be receiving an email by the end of the week with information about the man I’d had phone sex with last night, asking for my approval.

Rosethorn would be lucky to have him. I knew that. And as I told him, that’s what made all of this wrong .

I tugged my skirt down my thighs, hyper aware that if I spread them, anyone would be able to see my pussy. The Uber driver occasionally glanced back at me, but didn’t say anything to me on the drive, which was a relief.

My phone vibrated against my palm. I turned it over, seeing Ellen’s text across the screen.

Want to get dinner tonight?

Not tonight! Later this week, please

Okay, just figured you needed to get out of the apartment…

If she only knew where I was headed.

I texted her back a flimsy excuse about just wanting to enjoy a movie and a bubble bath to relax and forget about everything to do with my company. She bought it, because why would I have a reason to lie?

Going out in the middle of a work week to a club to hear a twenty-five-year-old play music was so out of character, no one would ever guess that was exactly what I was doing.

With no panties on.

I had no reason to follow through on this, even after our conversation last night. I knew he was using my desire to go to a BDSM club against me, but I liked that. It was a little ruthless, and that turned me on.

Did I really want to try this sort of stuff with anyone aside from Salt? That was the biggest question.

I knew the answer and hated it. I hated that I was feeling things I’d never felt before, because emotions like that got in the way of making good decisions. That’s why I always put emotions on the back burner.

He was corrupting me, but I was reveling in that corruption. I was clinging to the fringe of something I’d never had before—sex with someone who wanted me in a way that was captivating. The desires he’d dug up were shackling me to him and all of the bad decisions we were making.

Going to him tonight meant he’d introduce me to a club, which meant I could find another Dom, and put this all behind me. That was the professional thing to do.

Not that showing up to see a client without underwear was professional in any way, but I was doing my best. You’re playing with fire.

The car came to a stop, and I got out, giving the driver a wave before heading towards the front door of Russo’s. There was a line, but Salt told me to give them my name, and that they would let me in. I avoided eye contact with the people waiting as I approached the bouncer, holding my head high even as a cool breeze brushed my skin through my pantyhose.

The man raised a brow as I approached. “Hi,” I said. “Salt told me to come to the front door. My name is Pepper.”

The man snorted. “Oh, yeah. Is that like a kink thing or something?”

Heat immediately rushed to my cheeks. “What?”

“Your names? Salt and Pepper?”

“Oh. No, it’s not,” I said, completely taken aback.

“Okay, then. Alright, well, go in. Show starts in thirty and your boy has a fucking crowd.”

I glanced back at the line. Every single person waiting was beyond gorgeous. Women in beautiful dresses and outfits who exuded sexual energy. Why the hell is he interested in me?

The man stepped to the side to let me go by. “Have fun.”

My pulse raced as I slipped past him and stepped into the venue. It’d been a long time since I’d been at Russo’s, and it looked like they’d made some updates for the better. A bar ran the length of the entire wall to the right, and different levels of seating all faced the stage at the back corner.

Some of the house lights were still on. I checked my watch and raised a brow, wondering if they were having set up issues. I went up three steps and looked over a balcony, searching for Salt.

When I saw him, every muscle in my body froze. I swallowed hard, even more aware of what I’d worn for him, and that coming here was putting us in jeopardy. Russo’s wasn’t the best bar to hear music, but it was still frequented by a lot of people in the industry. This was Nashville, after all.

Salt stood on the stage talking to a man I vaguely recognized. Other musicians bustled around the two of them, setting up quickly. I recognized the three band members who were at the last show. More than likely, Salt was opening for whoever their headliner was.

He turned his head and I sucked in a breath as his gaze met mine.

This was the first time I’d seen him in person since Friday night.

He held up his hand and crooked a finger. A potent mix of frustration and tension seeped into my muscles. I scowled as I went down the stairs and made my way to the stage.

“ This is your guest?” the guy said, his eyes widening.

“Yep,” Salt said without missing a beat.

He startled me by jumping off the stage, landing in front of me with a kind of ease that reminded me my knees were not like they were a decade ago. When I was his age. What the fuck am I doing?

Salt held out his hand and I shook it, pulling away before he could kiss my knuckles. Amusement glimmered in his dark gaze as he turned to look up at the man. “This is Pepper.”

“Oh, I know her,” he snorted, his tone not disguising his disdain.

Great. My expression hardened and I slipped on my business mask, everything turning to stone. “Do you?”

“Yeah. You’re the reason my sister never got signed to a record label.”

“I’m certain I had nothing to do with that,” I answered coolly.

“Well, it’s your label, isn’t it?”

I fought a smile. “What was your sister’s name?”

“Amelia,” he sneered. “Great voice. Talented songwriter. Ended up with another label, better than yours.”

I knew exactly who he was talking about. I remembered her, her grating voice, and the sense of entitlement she had. And really, the nail in the coffin was that she was a bitch to Tommy. The only reason she got picked up by another label was because of a friend of their family. Last I’d heard, they dropped her for making homophobic statements online. Good fucking riddance.

“Amelia, Amelia, hmm…” I trailed off, and then shrugged. “Oh, I remember. Is that the Amelia who got dropped last month by her label for being homophobic online?”

The man’s ears turned red, his face dropping. “That was a misunderstanding.”

“I doubt it,” I said pleasantly, fluttering my lashes.

Salt looked away, hiding a laugh from the guy on stage. I felt more eyes on us and glanced up. The bass player was watching us closely. It made me feel anxious. Salt found a shred of composure, raked his fingers through his hair, and turned to face the dipshit. “Um, well. She’s my guest regardless, so can she have a badge, Dale?”

Dale fumed, but shrugged his shoulders, mimicking me. “Fine. I’ll get her one. You better be fucking worth it.”

Salt bristled. “I could leave instead, and let everyone waiting outside know that you changed your mind at the last minute, if you’d like.”

He held up his hands. “No need for that, man. I’ll go grab the badge.”

Salt didn’t say anything else, giving Dale a glare as he scampered to the back.

I shook my head. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t be here. I showed up like you asked?—”

“Are you just wearing pantyhose?”

My brain short circuited. “Yes,” I hissed. “Fuck. This is?—”

He stepped closer and dipped down, his lips brushing my ear. “I’m proud of you for doing as I asked.”

Ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump. My heart beat thrummed through every part of my body, including my pussy.

“You’re going to watch me play and then when I’m finished, I’m going to come backstage and fuck you until you’re singing my name.”

“Salt,” I hissed, giving him a light shove. I turned around, spotting Dale scrutinizing us as he approached. He wasn’t the only one.“There are people here. Behave .”

Salt smiled as if nothing had happened. “Thanks, Dale.”

“Sure,” he muttered. “You know your way around a stage, I’m assuming?”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes at him. But, to be fair, it had been awhile since I was backstage. “Of course. Who else is playing tonight?”

“An indie rock band out of Chicago,” Salt said. “They’re good.”

One of the techs on stage yelled for Dale and he grumbled as he walked away. I crossed my arms over my chest, taking it all in.

“How many songs are you playing?” I asked.

“Six,” he said. “Nothing too big. The guys are almost set up. Eric and Tyler have to go as soon as we finish, and Jack will go off on his own and enjoy the rest of the night.”

“So…”

He smiled. “So what I’m saying is you’ll have me alone once we finish performing.”

“Have you thought about adding another guitarist?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. “But I don’t know if I want to.”

I frowned, glancing up at him. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” he sighed.

“It seems you’re reluctant to all of this. Why? And don’t tell me it’s your artist ego.”

The corner of his mouth tugged. “You go into CEO mode so quickly. Don’t worry about my music, Pepper, it’s not yours. Yet.”

Yet. I gave him a dirty look and stepped away before he could touch me, the back of my neck prickling beneath Salt’s gaze. His very presence felt like a brand on my soul, and I couldn’t help but feel as though he were staking his claim. I glanced up at the bass player who watched us, but he looked away quickly.

“Show me how to get backstage,” I said.

The house lights in the venue went out, replaced by the swamp green stage lights they’d chosen. I didn’t love the green—in fact, I hated it—but didn’t have time to stew about it as Salt gripped my elbow gently and steered me towards a door. We went down a short dark hall, and into a room buzzing with people and equipment.

I jerked my elbow out of his grip before anyone stared at us. A young woman sat on an amp while talking to a couple of guys. She had bright purple hair that was pulled into a french braid, golden brown skin, and wore a black leather bustier with matching leather pants and boots. Absolutely gorgeous, with that magnetism I could spot by now. She was definitely a performer who drew crowds. The two guys talking to her gave her a nod and went on their way, taking whatever directions she’d given them to heart.

No one had to tell me she was the lead singer—it was beyond clear.

“Look who it is,” she called, grinning at Salt. Her eyes darted to me and she offered a genuine smile too, but remained seated.

I liked her.

Salt chuckled and led me over to her. “Hey, Tara. This is Pepper.”

Her eyes lit up and she beamed at me, charisma oozing off her in waves. I felt myself relax—this was one of my favorite parts of my job.

“Hi Tara,” I said. “Nice to meet you.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m assuming you’re here to scout Mr. Mysterious.” She winked at Salt, and I felt yucky jealousy claw at my chest.

“She’s a friend,” Salt said. “I’ll be back. I need to put on my mask and tune my guitar. And check in with the guys. Pepper, do you need anything?”

“She’s safe with me, handsome,” Tara purred, giving him an appreciative once over.

Salt gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze and then left us. It took every shred of strength I possessed not to follow after him like some lost puppy.

What is wrong with me? I forced a smile and focused on Tara. “I’m excited to hear you play tonight.”

“Thanks,” she said, sliding off the amp. “I’m excited to be here.”

I nodded. “You’re from Chicago?”

“Yes,” she said. “There’s four of us in the band. My brother and I started it five years ago, and I don’t know. It kind of went from there.”

“Do you write your own music?” I asked.

“We do,” she said. “Well, my brother, Tanner, mostly writes the lyrics. I write the melodies. And then our friends, Mario and Al, have been essential to creating our sound. We make a good team.”

I glanced up, spotting the two who were probably Mario and Al. Another man, who was definitely her brother, gave us a wave but went back to unraveling an abundance of chords. The drummer and keyboard player from Salt’s band came down the steps into the room, their groups forming a circle as they clearly worked through whatever issues they were having.

“Fuck,” she sighed. “I don’t love this venue. It’s not what we were told it would be. I should probably double check a few things while Salt plays.”

“Do you need help with anything?” I asked.

She raised a brow. “Aren’t you a label executive?”

“Yes,” I laughed. “And?”

“I just figured you’re here to listen. And definitely not work.”

“Well, I am here to listen,” I said. “But I know how to run a sound system, among other things. Like lighting. It’s been awhile since I’ve been backstage, but I can help. Put me to work.”

I needed to do something that wasn’t fawning over Salt.

She chewed on her bottom lip and hummed. “Actually… You know how to run lights?”

“Yep.”

“Okay… Obviously you can say no, but I think I would rather you run lights than the asshole they have doing it.”

I grimaced. “The green is hideous.”

She nodded in agreement. “Oh my god, it’s horrible. Okay, yeah, let’s go kick him out. I can pay you?—”

“Don’t be silly,” I said.

Tara hesitated, but then looked over at the rest of her band. Salt’s bass player joined the fray and it made me wonder how many men it really took to fix whatever issue they were having. “Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

“Okay. You’ll have a great view of the stage, too. And won’t have to deal with all the stage smoke or the drunks.”

“Perfect. Show me where the lighting booth is,” I said.

I glanced over at Salt and smiled to myself. He was sinking into his stage presence. His mask was on, his shirt off, and every part of me wanted to get back on my knees in front of him and suck him off while he sang me a song.

And now, more than ever, I remembered poignantly that I was not wearing underwear.

I smoothed my hands down my dress and followed Tara back out into the main part of the venue, skirting around the edge as people flowed in. The bar was already hopping, chatter blending with the warble of music.

We went through a door that had seen better days, up a dimly lit set of stairs to another door. She knocked on it impatiently and it swung open.

“Hi,” she chirped. “Drew, right?”

The boy on the other side had to be in college. He barely looked old enough to drink. “Yes,” he said. “Something wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, but Pepper here is going to take over lighting tonight. She’s a professional.”

We both expected resistance, but instead, Drew breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thank god. I told Dale I don’t know how to run this lighting system. It’s crazy outdated. And I was supposed to be doing sound downstairs.”

He stepped aside and we filed into the small room. It was a massive lighting console facing a window that overlooked the entire club. On one hand, it was completely overkill for the size of this venue, on the other—at least it was a professional piece of equipment.

“Ugh,” Tara groaned. “We’re so fucked.”

“It’ll be fine,” I said, looking around. “I know how to run this. It looks like a lot, but it’s not. Where did you set the green lights?”

Drew pointed to the left side of the board. I moved in closer, squinting at the labels with sharpie scrawled on them. The good news was it looked like each of the color lights were labeled correctly.

It’d been awhile since I’d done this, but I certainly hadn’t forgotten. Some of the first bands Rosethorn ended up taking on were people I’d run sound and lighting for early in my career. That being a decade ago worked in my favor because he was right, this board was outdated.

“What the hell is going on?”

Our heads whipped up as Dale filled the doorframe. He was barely taller than me, but his broad shoulders and the way he carried himself felt threatening. Even though I knew he wasn’t, and I also knew he’d back off the moment someone snapped back at him.

“She’s running our lights,” Tara said, her voice hardening.

I knew too well what that felt like. Having to adjust how you spoke to someone because otherwise they wouldn’t listen. If you were too polite, you’d get walked all over. If you were too blunt, you were a bitch.

Long ago, I decided I’d rather be called a bitch.

“She’s not?—”

“Dale, you lied to us about the size of this venue and I’m certain you overcharged us for playing.”

“He charged you ?” I scoffed. “Did he charge Salt?”

“Yeah,” she said quickly. “I mean, we should make it back with ticket sales, but?—”

“That’s absurd,” I said, giving Dale a hard look.

“I don’t like you,” he bit out.

I laughed. “Maybe I should text my friend who does venue licensing down at?—”

“No, no,” he said quickly, holding up his hands the same way he did with Salt earlier. He was a fucking coward, just like I’d guessed. “I don’t want any trouble. Just want things to run smoothly.”

“Do you own this place?” I asked bluntly.

“No, I’m the manager?—”

“Who owns it?”

His cheeks turned ruddy. “I’m not telling you.”

I rolled my eyes and faded the green light over the venue down, pushing blue up. “I’ll find out anyway. No need to be so elusive.”

“Bitch,” he muttered under his breath.

Tara and Drew stiffened, but I ignored him. “Do you want to know how much I make per hour Dale? And do you want to pay me that? Or do you want to get back downstairs to check on your bar and all the other shit you need to tend to?”

Dale hovered for a moment, but then grumbled, “Fine.”

Then he was gone. I snorted. It’d been awhile since I’d scared off someone so easily. I gave Tara a knowing look. “You need to get back down there, the show is going to start soon. Have fun.”

Tara winked and headed for the door, Drew following after her. “Well, thank you again.”

“You’re welcome. Close the door on your way out, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The door shut softly, shutting me into the small room with a perfect view.

I frowned and focused on the lighting console, using my phone flashlight to look everything over. I played with the settings until I had a good sense of how this one worked, then looked up as the music playing through the venue stopped, followed by cheers and claps.

I stood up to look out the window.

This time, they opened the set with everyone on stage without Salt.

The moment Salt stepped on stage, there was a ripple that swept through the venue. I watched as people came closer, drawn in like moths to his flame.

For the first time in ages, everything in my life melted away and I became completely entranced by music.

It was like sliding into cool water on a roasting summer day. A comforting breeze whispering ‘ welcome back ’ in my ear. Beckoning me into the arms of the very thing that had saved me, cursed me, helped me, ruined me.

I brought a mix of red and white light onto the stage, haloing Salt as he started to play his guitar. I gave the other three a dark red. A heavy base note reverberated through my bones as Salt stepped up the mic.

His voice.

It would probably be what destroyed me at the end of all of this. Subduing any forces of logic or reasons with a baritone croon that had my thighs squeezing tighter.

The lyrics were sexually charged. Obsessive. Possessive. Salt burned through my veins as I adjusted the lighting, finding the sweet spot. It would look good on camera, giving him a sort of ethereal god-like appearance.

Now I could sit and watch.

And listen.

My clit throbbed as I stared at Salt, my breath catching. I glanced at the door nervously, but then…

I just couldn’t help myself.

My fingertips grazed my dress until I gripped the hem, hiking the skirt up. I looked at the doorway again. But lust twisted through me, turning me into his helpless plaything.

“This is too much.”

My whisper was lost in the sound of him.

The chorus was charged with aggression, but only on the surface. Nerves rolled through me as I slid my fingers against my pussy, sucking in a breath.

I was so wet.

“Fuck,” I groaned, needy. So fucking needy.

Why couldn’t I just walk away from him? I was trapped. Caged in. There was no leaving, no escaping. I want him.

I continued to stare out the window at the stage. Beneath the harsh chorus was a deep longing, the kind I recognized immediately. The window became a mirror, and he was the beauty to my ugly, horrid reflection.

I just wanted him. Was that so fucking wrong? After years of not feeling wanted, was it so bad to be with someone who did?

Just the thought of having to inform the board of us being together terrified me. It could hurt my reputation. A CEO sleeping with an artist wasn’t new, but I wasn’t that type of CEO.

My head tipped back, my eyes slanting as I watched him, touching myself unapologetically. A shudder rolled through me as I fought against the sheer fabric of my hose.

It was getting in the way.

I bit my bottom lip hard, the pain only turning me on more. I looked down. Without a second thought, I grabbed the crotch of fabric and ripped. It split with ease, giving me the access I wanted to touch myself.

A whimper left me as he moved into the next song, but it was just as depraved and addicting. Slower. Deeper.

I curled my fingers inside myself, gasping at how wet I was. Fuck. My eyes closed as I pushed myself hard and fast, pumping them in and out to the beat of Salt’s music. A needy fever burned through me, catching fire as I played with myself.

His music was what I’d been looking for. Rosethorn needed him, he needed us. Which meant I’d need to be his boss, I’d need to somehow put a stop to being with him.

And yet—every single one of those sane thoughts evaporated as my orgasm washed over me, reverberating through my entire body. I slapped my hand over my mouth as I came.

My moans harmonized with Salt’s voice, muscles melting into the chair.

Holy shit, I just came from listening to him.