Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
Kitten
“Strike three, Kitten.”
My stomach flips six different ways. I can’t see his face or read his expression, but his shoulders are tight and his whole body is rigid with tension. All moisture leaves my mouth and travels south. “Wait? Why?”
“Rude response to an honest answer.” Before I can argue any more, he adds, “And worst of all, you don’t believe you’re precious and rare.”
“Because I’m not.”
“Strike four!” He groans and throws his arms up in the air, pacing back and forth. “If it wasn’t so wildly inappropriate, I’d spend the next half hour showing you exactly how important you are.”
A mix of thrill and disappointment battles my body. It’s like having a perfect chocolate cake in front of you, but told you’re not even allowed to smell it, much less taste. Curiosity leads to temptation and I want more. “Why would it be inappropriate?”
He touches his forehead and his chest rises and falls. “You’re vulnerable, injured, and just suffered a major trauma.”
I almost laugh, but stop myself. I spent the last three years traumatized and injured thanks to my ex. If I let that stop me, I’d never experience anything. And I’m getting this is sort of a ‘once-in-a-lifetime experience’ vibe. “You said I'm safe here and that you weren’t going to hurt me, right?”
He stops pacing. There’s a cautious lilt to his voice. “Yes.”
I let the blanket fall off my shoulders, finally earning the warmth I’ve been craving. “I’m tired of being scared and worthless.”
“You’re not …”
I put my hand up and close my eyes. “I want to feel something else. Anything.” The confession lifts a weight I didn’t know had been holding me back. “I feel safe with you.”
He whispers, “Fuck.”
“And I don’t want those assholes to be the thing that haunts me at night.
I’d rather erase it with a different experience.
” I give a little shrug and nod to the wall.
“And I’ve never been in a sex club. There’s always been a lingering curiosity that I’ve never been brave enough to explore, and right now, this is my opportunity. ”
A few steps across the room and he stands in front of me. “It’s a terrible idea, Kitten.”
I like my new name. My lips curl. “I’m not exactly known for making excellent life choices. Are you?”
He huffs. “No. Bad choice after another for me.”
“Please, Fox.”
He lifts my chin and tilts my gaze to his. At least, I assume that’s where his eyes are. My mind supplants a wicked smirk where his lips would be. “You’re going to hate it,” he pauses and presses his forehead to mine, “or absolutely fucking love it. Are you sure you want to be my Good Girl?”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. I mean, how am I supposed to handle that?
His voice is deep and low with a little singsongy timbre, his motions smooth and well-rehearsed.
He’s nothing like the men I’ve been attracted to in the past. I'm curious, and that will be the death of me.
And why does “good girl” affect me the way it does? “Yes, please.”
He sits on the couch and motions for me to sit on his lap.
I walk over suddenly uncertain of what I’ve gotten myself into.
It's unnerving how I fit so perfectly on his lap, as he wraps his arms around me.
This masked stranger cradles me, his fingers smoothing my hair as we sit in silence.
I can feel his breath on the top of my head.
This is not the sexy encounter I expected. No, this is more intimate.
I don’t understand why this is a punishment.
All it’s doing is leaving me with my quiet thoughts.
He smells nice. And I’m about to say that to him, but he whispers, “Shhh.” It’s the stillness, the silence that’s getting to me.
No distraction from my emotions or memories.
Tonight was horrible, but I sort of expected it. Terrible, but not surprising.
How did I let this happen? And a new question bubbles to the surface: if Fox hadn’t saved me, would Meat Hands be done with me by now? Or would Bad Breath have made good on all his threats? Would anyone believe me if I had crawled my bloody body to the police or hospital?
The sobs well up and escape my body violently. My chest rattles with every heaving breath. Tears soak my face. He wraps me up in the blanket as I cry into his chest.
“It’s okay,” he whispers. “You’re safe.”
Tears fall for all the times safety was out of my reach. Whimpers escape for the backhanded comments that made me feel worthless. My arms tighten around him because I don’t want to be alone.
A question grows in my mind. Is this the first time I’ve ever felt safe? And it’s with a stranger, not a boyfriend.
I don’t know how long I sob or when the tears finally slow. I’m curled up on his lap, feeling smaller with every second. “How are you doing?” he asks in a quiet, calming voice.
“That was a really shitty punishment.” I wipe my nose on the blanket. “How did you even do that? You didn’t say anything and suddenly I’m a sobbing mess.”
“It wasn’t a punishment, it’s what you needed.” He presses his head to my forehead and whispers, “I’m so proud of you.”
I don’t remember a time when anyone’s been proud of me and I squeak, “Thank you.”
He tightens his grip on me and pulls me closer to his beating heart. He’s warm and the rise and fall of his chest has a steady rhythm that lulls me into a sense of security. No one has ever held me like this. I don’t want to leave. “How long can I stay here?”
He strokes my hair. “As long as you need to.” He shifts my body so I’m higher up on his chest. There’s an ache to his voice as he says, “I’m so sorry, I knew this was a bad idea.”
Oh no, he’s blaming himself for my tears. “Well, I did say I wanted to feel something else other than fear.” I force a little laugh. “Mission accomplished.”
He huffs, his breath brushes against my head and he stays quiet for a few moments. The lights flicker on and off. “What does that mean?”
He lets out a long sigh and shifts his weight. “Dimitri will be here soon.”
I lift my head off his chest. Turning, I gaze at the masked man as his thumb strokes my cheek, wiping away the now-dried tears. I don’t want to go. He said I could stay.
“It’s a shame we don’t have time for your reward.”
“What kinda reward? Like a sticker? I like stickers.”
I blink a few times at him, waiting for clarification. Instead, he touches his forehead to mine and says, “I make good girls like you come so hard you’ll see stars.” Then he leans back and lifts his head to the ceiling, like he’s disappointed, but I’m annoyed as hell.
Shoving him in the chest until he makes an “ooof” sound, I whine, “That was an option?”
His cheeks tighten under his mask, and a tiny sense of satisfaction grows inside me. I made him smile. He taps my nose with each word. “We are in a sex club.”
I throw my arms around his neck and shake my head in a dramatic fashion. “Why didn’t we start with that?”
He huffs another laugh. “Maybe next time.”
“There’s going to be a next time?” I can’t contain my excitement and let out a tiny squeal of delight I only make whenever I open a fresh set of colored pencils. “When? Tomorrow? I’m free tomorrow.”
He pulls back for a second. Didn’t he say he would make me see stars? Who wouldn’t want that ASAP?
There’s a knock at the door, followed by a long pause before it opens. The brick house with arms walks in. He pauses when he sees me still on Fox’s lap. “Is everything ok in here?”
Fox nudges me and I swing my legs to stand on the floor, but I overestimate and sort of wobble to my feet. My masked man’s hands steady me, and I give him a quick smile.
The brick house extends his hand with a sympathetic expression. “I’m Dimitri, the club manager. I’m sorry you’ve had a rough night.”
I shake his hand. “Hi.”
He motions with his head to follow him as he speaks. “We retrieved your car. Did you always have a ding on your passenger door?”
“Yeah—someone hit it while I was doing a food run.”
Dimitri nods. “Fucking savages.” Out in the hallway stands another man, smaller than Dimitri but not by much.
He stands straight like he's a former military guy and the buzz cut adds to that conclusion. “This is Darren. In his day job, he’s a personal security agent. He’s going to take you home and make sure your apartment is safe. ”
I smile. “That’s so funny—I’m designing a logo for a security company.
Ms. King can’t make up her mind about which elephant logo she wants.
” The comment is casual and light. I don’t understand its instant reaction.
Both Dimitri and Darren pull back, and I hear Fox gasp from behind me.
Her name has a magical aura for them, a mix of terror and respect.
“Oh shit. You know Alana?” Dimitri says, and he pulls out his phone and lifts his index finger. “One second.” The phone rings twice, and before the person on the other end can speak, Dimitri asks, “Is your graphic designer a woman who works at the Cerberus building?”
A woman’s voice asks, “Is she cute as hell and probably wearing an outfit with an animal printed on it?” I recognize Alana’s voice instantly. She’s the only woman I speak to on the phone every week.
He lifts the phone toward me, and I realize he’s just pointing the camera. “This her?”
“Yeah, what’s wrong?”
“She got roughed up in the parking lot by work. Darren’s taking her home.”
I’m used to hearing Alana with a sharp clip to her voice, but this sounds different. Colder. “Unacceptable. Darren, code Valkyrie, and I expect a full report tomorrow.”
I don’t know what that means at all, but he gives a quick nod and says, “You should come with me.”
No. I don’t like it. I think it’s the way he looms over me, and I feel small between Dimitri and Darren.
“I feel safe with Fox.” I step back into him, his hand resting on my lower back. “And I don’t understand what’s going on.”
The men change their stance, less dominating and more comforting. “Ms. King is a close friend and employer of several members of the club and she wants you to have the best protection possible,” Darren says in a soothing and calm voice.
Fox whispers, “I told you that you’re precious.”
But now I’m spiraling. How did a logo design job I took a year ago change my life so much? The past year clashes with the immediate present. I turn back to Fox with a pleading expression. “Does this mean I can’t come tomorrow?”
Dimitri’s eyes shoot up, and a small grin appears, but I think it’s for my benefit because it doesn’t meet his eyes as he glances at Fox. “Of course, you’re allowed back.”
“Can you get her a guest trial for the next time?” Fox says softly.
“Come on, let’s go up front and get your account all set up,” Darren says and offers me his hand. He pauses and looks back at Fox. “Are you coming?”
“No. Her information is personal. I just need her phone number.” He turns to me and pushes my hair over my shoulder. “See you soon, Kitten.”
Then it hits me—he doesn’t know my name ... and he doesn’t want to.