Chapter 15
CHAPTER 15
N ovember 1 st
Something I have learned through my bookworm adventures is that heroes and heroines are multi-dimensional. There is more than one side to them in the book just as there is more than one side to a person in real life. I thought I was just a bookworm, but when I turned the book around to write my own story, there is more to me than a virginal bookworm. I am a daughter, a friend, and a badass book bitch. I have more confidence than I knew, a career I’m proud of, and a lackluster sex life I am no longer ashamed of.
Why I thought of Mr. Paris as solely the elegant, polite, handsome man from The Red Door is a mystery. He obviously has a life, a career, and his own passions. However, my transformation from bookworm to bookdragon is nothing compared to the transformation from rake to masked demon. Now I’m just a woman begging to be punished by a ghost face. Pick me up, throw me down, and stick a bookmark in me. I’m done.
“Mr. Paris?” Paige had to be imagining it, but she thought she had heard the slight hint of a French accent. Mr. Paris growled in response. How did that go right to her kitty? Damn Eli, that’s all she could think of right now. “What are you doing here?”
Mr. Paris cocked his head to the side. “Lenora said you wanted me.”
“Of course I do. Have you seen yourself? This is what you were hiding under your tux? I’m so mad that you didn’t get naked now.” Paige was really struggling, taking her eyes away from his muscled torso.
“You weren’t complaining when you were coming on my tongue,” Mr. Paris growled.
Paige didn’t know what to say. She was too busy remembering doing that.
“Hey,” a woman purred as she approached in a costume that really was a micro bikini. She completely ignored Paige and slid her hand over Mr. Paris’s chest. “Let me buy you a drink.”
“Get your hand off me,” Mr. Paris ordered the woman, his face never turning away from Paige. “Don’t disrespect my woman by pretending not to see her.” Paige and the woman had to be wearing the same shocked expression. “Come,” he ordered Paige.
Paige almost orgasmed on the spot, but Mr. Paris held out his hand for her to take. Oh, that kind of coming. Paige put her hand in his as he turned and led them from the VIP room with their fingers laced together.
He didn’t say anything as he led them to the dance floor. Men gave him a wide berth and women thought about throwing themselves at him, but some gut instinct for self-preservation kept them from acting on it.
The music’s beat pulled them together. Their bodies rubbed against each other, the scent of his cologne mixed with the heat from their dancing combined into a drug-like experience where she felt as if she were floating and only his touch was keeping her anchored to Earth.
What in dark erotica was going on? Because every inch of her was alive as Mr. Paris’s hands ran up her side and over her breast before taking hold of her throat and forcing her face to turn up and look into his ghost mask. “Tell me why you wanted to see me.”
The hand around her throat wasn’t tight. It was sexy as hell is what it was. “I enjoyed our time together and I was hoping you did, too. I know we can’t see each other outside the club,” Paige paused. “Well, I thought we couldn’t. So I was hoping you’d come to Lenora’s party so I could see you again.”
Mr. Paris’s throat rumbled as if he were pleased with what she said. “We shouldn’t see each other outside of the club. The club is a fantasy. It’s not real life. Isn’t there someone special in your life? A boyfriend or someone you want to be your boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Don’t lie to me.” The hand at her throat tightened slightly as his other hand pulled her against him until there was no space left between them. His free hand began to slowly slide over her breast and down her side.
“There’s no one. I had thought I had something with a doctor, but he was cheating on his wife with me and so many other women. I didn’t know and I felt horrible about it.”
“Men like him aren’t worth your tears. Women are to be respected, worshiped, and occasionally spanked. What other men are in your life?” It might be a question, but it was asked as a demand.
“My boss was in the running for a while, but he has mommy issues and now likes one of my friends.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“No. He’s actually a really good friend now and I’m happy for them both. Then there’s—” Paige stopped and let out a sigh.
“That told me more than words. Who is this man you want?” Mr. Paris’s hand slid up and under her short white goddess dress to squeeze her ass. “Be a good girl and tell me or face the punishment.”
“I mean, what kind of punishment?”
“My brave bookworm. Tell me or I leave.”
“He’s a detective,” Paige admitted.
“Then why isn’t he here with you tonight?”
“He only sees me as a friend.”
“Are you sure he sees you that way?” Paige nodded. “But you want it to be more?” Paige nodded again. “Good girl,” he purred as he loosened his hold on her ass and began to slip his hand between them.
“Will you leave now?” she asked, slightly panicky. She wanted more time with him.
“No. For just tonight, you’re mine.”
The way he said mine made her want to throw herself at him and beg him to take her. Paige clung to him, his fingers running along the crease of her thigh, toying with the elastic of her panties. At this point, she was close to telling him she’d do anything if he just continued touching her. “Please tell me to shut the fuck up and take your dick like a good girl,” she said, repeating the famous erotica line she’d read in so many books.
She felt his body chuckle with amusement. “I don’t have to tell women to take my dick. They do it all on their own. But I will tell you to shut the fuck up and take the orgasm I’m going to give you.”
Suddenly his fingers dove under her panties right there in the middle of the dance floor. People were all around them and he rumbled his approval. “You’re so wet and tight.” He squeezed her throat just enough to get her attention. “Keep your eyes on me. No one can see what I’m doing. Now, give me your orgasm.”
Paige gasped as Mr. Paris assaulted all her senses right in the middle of the Halloween party. His large body was angled in such a way that he was using his shoulders and hips to form their own wall of privacy. His fingers, the words he whispered about how she felt clenching on him, the closeness, the risk of being seen, it was overwhelming. Her mouth dropped open as the first wave hit. Instead of screaming, she felt the fabric of the mask on her lips. Mr. Paris took her scream, took her orgasm, and somehow instead of feeling like she gave her power to him, she felt as if she’d taken it.
“Good girl,” he whispered. “Now, go home. There are dangerous men out tonight. And, Miss Reading, I’m the fantasy. I’m not the reality. Remember that when you think of getting in touch with me again.”
Mr. Paris stepped back, turned his back, and strode out of the nightclub without ever looking back.
“Miss?” Paige didn’t know how long she’d been standing there when the security guard tapped her shoulder. “The car your date ordered for you is here. I was told to escort you to it.”
“Car?” Paige asked, feeling too many emotions to know how to put one foot in front of another.
“Yes, to take you home.”
Paige laughed to herself as she followed the security guard out the back exit to where a town car was waiting for her. Mr. Paris might talk tough, but he was a gentleman. He’d been right about being a fantasy though. Paige had never dreamed of experiencing something like that. She replayed it over and over again in her head as the car took her home. She realized she hadn’t given the driver her address, and maybe, if she wasn’t on such an orgasmic high, she would have been impressed with Mr. Paris’s ability to care for her.
“Thanks for the ride,” Paige told the driver as he opened her door for her.
Paige floated up the five floors as if in a dream. She entered her apartment and fell back onto the bed with a smile on her face. Her phone sounded with an incoming text message. She opened it and found texts from her friends. But the new text, at one in the morning, was from Max.
Paige sat up and stared at the phone as if Max could see her through it. I’m the fantasy, not the reality . Max was real, but not hers. She pressed the screen and opened the message. It was a picture of Max and Lexi trick or treating.
Max: Lexi wouldn’t let me test her candy. Otherwise, it was a good night. Noah had invited me over to his place for a party, but my sister and brother-in-law are out of town so I’m watching Lexi. How was the party?
Paige read the message over and over again before deciding how to respond. She wasn’t Fraser. She would keep it friendly. She would respect relationship boundaries. I didn’t go to Noah’s. I went to WET. I actually just got home. It was a lot of fun. Did Sierra go trick or treating with you and Lexi?
Max: No. Sierra was at a party with Kitty. You remember the mayor’s daughter you rescued from the burning regency ball, right?
Paige did. Kitty was sweet and she hoped to see her again soon. I do. I really liked Kitty. I need to invite her to book club.
Max: You should. She’d love that. Tell me about WET. What did you go dressed as?
Paige smiled, wrote him back, and told him about her outfit, about the hairy werewolf and getting stabbed by the minotaur’s horn.
Max: He was just horny. I’m glad you had fun, Paige. Sounds like an adventure.
Paige asked him about his night, laughed at the stories of being Uncle Max, and snuggled into bed, texting with Max until four in the morning. They talked about everything from book club to work. This was reality, but unfortunately, it wasn’t her reality.