Raindrops splashed onto my windshield, as I steered my car through the downtown streets, towards the convention center, where the XXX exhibition was being held for one night only. It had been hailed as a bevy of porn stars and video and toy retailers, with BDSM demonstrations in some of the back rooms. I hoped I would fit right in with them all and maybe find some new avenues of promotion. I wanted to network with some industry professionals and pick their brains, if they would let me, but none of that would happen, as I was running hours late.
Traffic had been horrendous, with cars and trucks vying for lane space because of a jackknifed semi, which had opened to let the cattle it was hauling roam free. Someone had nearly rear-ended me and had the gall to flip me off, when I looked at him in my rearview mirror. As the minutes had ticked away, while I sat in gridlock, the sun had gone down.
When I cleared another street light, the building came into view.
“Thank God.”
Lifting my foot from the accelerator, I maneuvered into the underground parking lot. I punched the button for the lift gate to allow me entrance, grabbed the ticket that popped out of the machine, and drove down to find an open space.
I hoped the event wasn’t going to be the colossal waste of time my ex-husband had said it would be, when, before the divorce, I told him that I was going to attend.
What does he know, anyway? I have good reviews.
A rush of anger went through me, and I slammed my foot on the brake, as my body started to tremble.
No! No! No! Don’t let him in!
I fought against the memory of our last argument. It was months ago, and after the hurtful things he said to me, it ended with me packing all my things and moving into an extended-stay hotel by the airport, spurring our long-overdue divorce.
“I’ve read your stuff,” he told me. “Look. I know you think you’re a good writer, but face it. You’re not. You keep pouring yourself into this for hours every day. For what? Nothing. Nobody wants to read the smut coming out of your head. I’ve tried to support you. But this…” The vision of him holding my latest release up to me, the only one he had read, made my eyes water. “…is nothing but shit. You’ve got a Master’s Degree, for God’s sake! How can you write this drivel? And you’re going to try to sell this to the public? You’ll either be a laughingstock, or they’ll think you’re a whore.”
A horn blared behind me, and I shrieked, my hands flying up into the air. Placing them on my flushed cheeks, I eased my foot off the brake, and the car crawled forward. I glanced back at the guy in the car behind me, seeing his fists raised in annoyance at me. Then his tires squealed in irritation, as he took the first ramp, which led into a lower level of the garage. I shrugged, hoping for a space in the one I was on.
Glancing out of the driver’s side window, I saw the form of a man standing in the shadows of the garage near a security light. As I watched, he stepped farther into the brightness and leaned against the corner of the wall. My breathing slowed to normal, and the words my ex had spoken melted away, as I drank him in. I was transfixed by his beauty, not noticing he was watching me, until he nodded to my right, at the parking spot I had passed.
Rattled that he caught me gawking at him, I shifted into reverse, backed the car up, and somehow got it parked. After popping the trunk latch, I opened my door, grabbed my black stilettos, and put them on. Although my clothing was otherwise professional, I couldn’t give up my sexy shoes. They were black L.A.M.B.s, with five-inch heels and a two-inch base. Zippers topped the patent leather that had one strap over the open toe and then criss-crossed, with two more thin straps on the top of my feet. The closure was a small zipper that was tugged up the back of my foot. They cost one of my paychecks, but they were worth it. I loved them.
Thunder rumbled outside, as I pulled my banner and books out, securing them on my travel dolly. I felt eyes on me, but when I turned around, no one was looking in my direction.
I walked as fast as I could, with an eye out for pebbles or breaks in the concrete that could trip me. The last thing I needed was a broken ankle.
After going up in the elevator, I entered the lobby and looked for a sign to tell me where I was supposed to go. I didn’t see anything, so I headed in the direction from which I heard voices, hoping that was the right way.
Up ahead of me, a woman in a tiger-striped bikini, with an immense bosom, stood on higher platforms than I’d ever attempted to wear, handing out postcards. I thought that maybe she could help me.
“Excuse me.” I held out my hand, and she shook it. Her breasts looked like they were going to pop out from under the tiny pieces of cloth covering her. She took a step away from me, to hand more advertisements to passersby. Since I didn’t share my photo anywhere, I realized she had no idea who I was. “Wait! I’m Lindy Beck.” I dug in my purse, pulled out the invoice that I had paid to attend, and handed it to her. She scanned it, as I looked inside the packed convention room. “Do you know where I should set up?”
“Oh, honey!” She pulled me into her arms, squeezing me against her breasts, until I couldn’t breathe. “Did you get stuck in all that traffic people have been grumbling about?” After she gave it back it to me, I shoved the piece of paper back inside my purse and then pushed the strap higher up my shoulder. I nodded, and she waved me towards the interior of the convention. “I sure do know where to take you. Follow me.”
We went through the open double doors, as she gingerly made her way through the crowd, laughing and blowing kisses, while I followed behind with all my gear. Tables were covered with all manner of sexually explicit materials and devices, some I hadn’t seen before. Considering the amount of research I did for my books to keep the sex scenes hot and up-to-date, that was saying something.
Rolling along, I smiled at each person I passed, as we ambled from one ballroom into another.
“Over there, honey,” she said, as she pointed to the side. “Have a good time.”
“Oh, no,” I mumbled.
It was him. The guy from the garage. His eyes were on me, as he sat in my chair, with his long black-clad legs stretched across my table. He was wearing a blood-red button-down shirt, matching my black and red ensemble.
“Ma’am, can you please ask that gentleman to leave my table?”
“Why would I do that? That’s your assistant, Zane.”
She kissed my cheek, before sauntering off, blowing kisses and waving to people, as her ass swung side to side.
“But I didn’t ask for one!” I called out to her, but she had already melted into the crowd.
I cut my eyes back to him, and he winked at me, with an upturned corner of his mouth.
Some assistant. Doesn’t he see me with all this baggage?
As if he heard my thoughts, he pulled his feet down, placing them on the carpet. He sat forward, with his elbows on the table. His straight blonde hair fell forward, to his clean-shaven face.
His eyes roamed me with leisure. His inspection was thorough, starting at my head, down to my breasts and lower, until he reached my feet. I wondered if he had guessed the color of my panties.
What the hell is going on with me?
I blew my bangs out of my eyes and thought about my predicament. I could either stand there like an idiot and prove my ex right, or suck it up, figure out a way to put one foot in front of the other, and set up my display.
Decided, I lifted my foot, and, in the ultimate shoe betrayal, my heel snagged the carpet. I felt the sharp tug at the same time my dolly hit my ass, and then the floor was rising to meet me.
The next thing I knew, I was wrapped in strong muscular arms, looking up into the bluest eyes I had ever seen. I was momentarily lost, and I couldn’t pry my eyes away from his.
His gaze traveled over my face, as I lay there, not moving. He lingered on my lips, and I drew my bottom one inside my mouth. I wasn’t trying to be coy or flirt. I don’t even know why I did it. He flicked his eyes back to mine, and they had darkened. My mouth went dry, parched like the desert.
I thought I was never going to get to my table at that rate.
“Thank you,” I managed to force out of my strangling vocal cords.
“Any time.”
His voice was a heated growl, and my body flushed, and my cheeks flamed. I had to get away from him. Things were going on in my body that shouldn’t occur in public, even at a convention dedicated to sex.
“My books,” I said, waving my hand in their general direction.
“I’ve read them. Are you okay? Did I catch you in the nick of time?”
I stopped listening, when he said he’d read my stories.
“Let me go.”
My voice sounded hard, as my ex’s taunt rose in my memory.
He lifted me up, and when he settled me on my wobbly feet, he kept his hands on my arms, trying to catch my eyes again.
I pulled away and grabbed the handle of the dolly.
“Wait,” he said, putting his hand over mine. “What happened just then?”
“I’m not here to be made fun of.”
My audience was women, not men. The only man who had read one of my books had ripped me apart over it. Guys didn’t understand the type of novels I wrote. I knew that, but still, it hurt, being ridiculed for writing the things I loved.
He looked out at the crowd milling around.
“Who did that to you? Tell me. Point the person out, and I’ll take care of it.”
“You.”
He let go of me and stood there, watching me, while I went to my spot, to let him mull over what I said.
Maybe he’d leave. I didn’t need an assistant, anyway. It wasn’t like that was the first time I had sold my books to the public.
After unzipping my bag, I removed the black tablecloth and spread it out. Bending over, I smoothed it, making sure no wrinkles showed.
“Let me get this straight.”
I jumped at his voice behind me, and when I stood up, his crotch was against my bottom.
His face was lowered to my neck, and he spoke into my ear. His lips were so close, he grazed the shell.
“I tell you I’ve read your books, and that’s a bad thing? Isn’t the point of writing books to have someone read them? Why not me?”
Myriad responses floated through my head, but none of them resulted in me not insulting myself.
“Your books aren’t shit, you know. He’s wrong. They’re entirely luscious.”
I spun around and smacked into the wall of his chest.
“How did you know that?” I said to his pecs.
“I know a lot about you, London.”
My eyes widened, and I stepped back from him, grasping the table. Privacy was important to me, although I risked it each time I attended an event.
Was he a stalker? I hadn’t had any issues before, but how did he know me?
I turned back around, as my mind flew through all the scenarios in which my true identity could be discovered.
Zane came up behind me, making me jump out of my skin. I wasn’t sure if it was fear, or that other thing I was feeling, until he leaned in to me and sniffed once.
Mortification crept up my spine. My mind was having a hard time controlling my vacillating responses to his presence, next to and around me, but my body wasn’t.
“Aren’t you the prim and proper thing? Interesting,” he mused. “I volunteered to be your assistant, so please let me assist, and we can get to know each other. I won’t bite you.”
Not waiting for my agreement to his statement, he went to my cart and lifted the package my banner was rolled in. After setting it on the table, he took it out. He was facing away from me, and all I could do was watch, as he worked on my display.
In less than a minute, he had my logo stretched out and erected. As tall as he was, he didn’t need to use the chair as a step-stool, like I did.
He returned to my cart, started stacking my novels on the table, and set one of each title in the small easels I had brought to display them. Stopping, he glanced at me, where I stood, taking it all in and watching how he was taking care of everything, without needing my direction.
I looked down, when something was pressed into my hand. It was one of my books.
“Relax, Lindy,” he said, using my pen name, as he tipped my chin up to look at him. “Your secrets, all of them, are safe with me. Come set up your things. Your fans are waiting.”
He nodded to the door at a small group of women, who were speed-walking over to my area. I rushed around to sit, while Zane held the back of the chair and scooted it under me. Then he went around the table to greet them.
“Welcome, ladies,” he said with an exaggerated bow, before I could say anything to them. “Come to purchase your autographed copies of Miss Beck’s exquisite tomes?”
“Oh, my sweet Lord!” one of the women exclaimed, looking him up and down. “Are you her inspiration for Hunter?”
“Hmm…” he said, dropping his voice even lower. I swallowed, as a new shiver ran through my body. Thoughts of how he had found me and knew my real name had disappeared and were replaced in my imagination by ones much more salacious. “I’m not sure about that, but she is my prey. I’m going to pursue her, until she gives in to me, and then…” He looked at me over their heads and licked his lips. “…I’m going to eat her right up.”
“Oh!” they exclaimed, almost simultaneously.
We were all flustered, and they fanned their faces, while I tried the get the vision of him doing exactly what he said out of my mind, though I was failing miserably.
“This one’s a keeper, girl!”
“How much, Lindy?” a lady asked, as she looked over the back of one of my novels.
I jerked my mind back to the present and opened my mouth to speak, as he said, “Personally autographed copies are $25 each. The 4-part series has been drastically reduced for this night only to $80.”
The women quieted, when they heard his price, and I stomped my foot under the table at the lost sales. He’d quoted an amount almost double what I normally asked.
Reaching down, he picked up the first in the series and flipped through it, until he reached a certain page in the middle. I knew what was on it, and I started to get up to stop him. He held his hand out at me and began reading. He flashed his fake fangs at me, and I sighed in defeat.
I did the only thing I knew to do. I put my head in my hands, fingers over my ears, as he recited the steamy excerpt. Between his booming baritone and the content of my story, I waited for someone to throw both of us out at its raunchiness. It didn’t matter that I was at an erotic event, with vibrators, sex dolls, and toys everywhere. I still feared that my content would offend someone. To my shock, it had happened at erotic online events in the past, where I had shared my work. I didn’t understand people attending, when they would find the subject matter objectionable, but they did.
Some people gave wolf whistles, as they passed by, and others wandered over, picking up the novels and reading the backs.
He ended the scene and dropped the paperback, like a rapper would a mic.
“Do you take credit cards?” another lady asked, as she set the series in front of me.
“Yes, we do,” Zane said, as he picked up my cell phone off the table and opened the app to take her payment.
I signed my name, put the sets in decorative bags, and passed them back to the chittering women.
After they left, he crouched down beside me and said, “That went well.”
He slanted those eyes up at me, and my heart stuttered in its beat. I couldn’t let him play with me. My writing career was too important to get involved in some assistant/author imbroglio.
Sometime later, after selling many of my books, Zane said, “When this is over, let’s go have a drink. There are only a few hours left of the exhibition tonight, and we haven’t had a chance to talk. There’s a bistro down the street with an amazing cabernet.”
“I don’t drink and drive,” I said, surprised at my automatic response.
“This is a hotel.” He put a finger to my mouth to shush me. “And I have a room.”
Then he leaned in. I saw it happening, and there was nothing I could do but let it. His hands went into my hair at my scalp, and his fingers spread across the base of my skull. The gentle pressure he used was enough to hold me there and urge me closer. His lips were open, waiting for me to meet them. My heart raced, and I ached to feel his kiss. My brain checked me, and I moved away.
He wasn’t having any of that. He went forward, pressing his soft lips to mine. I wanted to return it. I wanted to throw myself into the kiss, but I stayed still, waiting for him to finish and leave in a huff, when I didn’t respond.
Instead, he put his forehead to mine.
“London Beckley. Lindy Beck.”
The way he said it made me wonder. Was I to choose who I was?
“Why just write about it?” His lips flitted over me, as he spoke, and his question shot tingles over my skin.
Thunder crashed outside, mirroring the storm growing inside of me.
“I just met you.”
“Human life is short. A flicker of time, and then it’s over. Live it while you can.” He looked into my eyes and said, “With me.”
“What do you mean?”
My breath caught in my throat at what he was saying.
“I know the beautiful woman behind the pen. You pour yourself into your books for hours every day…” he said, repeating what my ex had told me, “…creating the world I can give you if you let me. I knew we were meant to be, when I finished the first book. I researched you, tracked you down. I came here to get you, London. You belong with me. Stop fighting it.”
As I looked at him, I remembered how Zane had flashed what I thought were fake fangs and said he wouldn’t bite me. He was talking about what I wrote being made real, speaking of human life, as if he weren’t mortal.
No. That isn’t possible. Is it?
Easing back from me, Zane didn’t say another word, but he watched the play of emotions on my face, as I turned to look at my paranormal romance books and back at him.
“Show me.” My voice was a whisper, but he heard me and squatted back down.
He moved the chair I was sitting in, angling both of us away from the masses, to prevent them from seeing what he was doing.
His lips parted, and I watched, as fangs began to protrude and lengthen, while his eyes remained fixed on me to see how I would react. Those were not the fakes I had thought they were. My hands shook, as he retracted them, and the twin points receded to resemble normal teeth.
“Oh, my God.”
Reality crashed down on me, all the pieces fitting together, and I was again frozen in place, staring at him with my mouth open.
He nodded once.
“And now, you know my secret.”
The remaining hours passed by with me in a daze, as Zane handed me books to sign, murmured names in my ear, and held my hand when no one was around. He knew I was in shock, so he took over for me, and I was thankful for it. My thoughts were a jumble, running over each other.
That cabernet was sounding better and better.
“London.” Zane was standing in front of the table. Without me even noticing, he had packed all my things, except the tablecloth, which he was holding the edge of, to take and fold. “It’s time for us to go.”
I stood and walked over to my cart, while he took care of the last item needing to be put away.
“You’re overthinking this,” he said, taking hold of my hand with his right and the handle of my cart with his left. “Let’s go have that drink and see what happens.”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Zane.”
“Drinks, or you and I being a couple?”
“All of it.”
Ignoring what I said, he led me out of the convention rooms and down, into the full parking lot.
Not shirking his assistant duties, he took me to my car. After I unlocked it, he loaded all my things into the trunk. He closed the lid, and I walked to the driver’s side door, with him behind me. I reached for the handle, but he pulled me back to him.
“Are you scared of me, now that you know what I am? Talk to me, London. Tell me what’s going on in your head.”
“I was afraid of you way before that. What you are is an impossibility I’m still trying to wrap my mind around.”
“You were scared of me?” He smoothed my hair away from my face. “Why?”
“Zane….” I sighed, deciding to lay it all out. “First off, you’re an extremely handsome man. You’re beautiful. I’d lose myself in you. Lose my power. That was strike one. Then you came in and took everything over, even me. Strike two and three. I don’t know what to think about tonight. Any of it. I just need to go. Thank you for helping me.”
“I’m glad you think I’m hot. And you’re right, I was a very good assistant. I did my job well. As for the other things you said, this isn’t baseball, baby. And I’m not letting you run the fucking game.”
He pressed my back against my car, as his head descended. My purse fell off my shoulder, to the ground, spilling its contents.
And then his lips were on mine. I expected the kiss to be hard, an overtaking of me, but it wasn’t. It was the softest awakening of my mouth, and I could do nothing but yield, when his tongue slid against my lips.
I opened to him, and all my thoughts and worries vanished, as he took control of me in the gentlest domination. My hands clutched his shirt, and the fabric crushed between my fingers. I returned the kiss, no longer able to fight the bewitchment of my attraction to him.
He groaned, and the vibration went down my throat, deep into the secret place of my hidden desires, unlocking it. My body went slack, and he held me up to him, with his arm wound around my waist.
The fingertips of his other hand were at my chin, and he grazed them down the column of my throat, following the path to the swell of my breasts. His hand lay there, feeling the cascade of the rise and fall of my quick breaths and thudding heartbeat.
Breaking the coupling of our lips, he pulled back. His eyes glittered, as he looked at me with hunger. I shivered, seeing his want, unconcealed and fully exposed to me. I trembled with the same need.
“Let me have you, London.” He trailed kisses up my neck, and then the tips of his fangs, when he descended, scraped against me. I leaned my head farther to the side, giving him my uncovered flesh. He brought his mouth close to mine, a mere breath away. “You belong with me. Let me guide you to the truth of us.”
I thought of my stories and the fact that he had read them. He knew all of me. Everything I had written was like he said. My unfulfilled fantasies were poured out on the pages.
Taking my silence as agreement, he picked me up and flashed us back inside the hotel, into an empty conference room at the back of the building, facing the alley.
He set me on my feet and took my hand, leading me deeper into the darkened room, illuminated in places by the exterior flood lights.
He kissed me again, and I grasped him, pulling him to my infuriatingly clothed body. My blood was rushing through my veins, and my panties were a useless thing in their soaked state. I wanted them off of me. I wanted them ripped from my hips, never to be worn again.
“Zane….”
I knew I sounded powerless, like I had told him I would be. I no longer cared that he had overtaken me, as I expected.
I wanted him.
He backed me against the wall, and we slipped down it together. His hands were at my waist, and my mind screamed for him to jerk my skirt up and my thong down and touch me.
We were lying on the floor, with his body stretched out over mine. He kissed the tops of my breasts, as his fingers skimmed up the inside of my thigh. My stomach drew inward, an involuntary reaction to what he was doing.
I grabbed his hand, trying to assist him, and he lowered his head next to mine, as he kept his hand where it was. He was smiling, but not in derision or jest at my desperation for him.
He was happy.
“Zane….” I said yet again.
“London,” he replied in his deep voice, which delved inside me, traveling through my skin in a wave, crushing me underneath it, before lifting me back up.
He was hovering over me, with the weight of his body anchored by his elbows on the sides of my head. His hair had fallen down, curtaining us in intimacy.
My hand drifted up and rested on the back of his head, pulling him down, bringing his lips to mine. We caressed each other, his tongue dipping into my mouth, flicking against mine. We dueled. Neither for primacy, but for the sole touch of the other.
“I want you naked,” he growled.
My breasts grew heavy, and my pussy throbbed in time with my heartbeat. All he had to do was touch me, just a glancing of his finger, and I would come apart.
I wrapped my legs around him, and he lowered his groin to press between my thighs. His length was against me, a solid and heavy weight.
I cried out, “Zane!”
“Mmmm…. Baby….”
He ground his hips in circles, and I lifted mine to meet him.
“Please! Please!”
The word was a beggar’s prayer, coming out of my mouth. I was ready to appeal to the heavens, petition the angels, to make him take me.
I yanked the front of his shirt out of his pants, started unbuttoning it from the bottom to the top, and pushed it off his shoulders. He then threw it to the side, out into the darkness.
My hands wandered the muscles of the planes of his chest. In the dim light, I could see he had a dusting of hair over the center of his body. The trail went down his sternum and stomach, teasing me with what lay to be discovered below.
He moved off of me, to the side, and stood back up, with a hand down to me. I took it, and he raised me to standing.
Without a word, he began undressing me. My heart was hammering, as he removed my blouse, sending it flying to join his. He then walked behind me and unzipped my skirt, as he kissed across my shoulders. He reached the juncture of my neck and shoulder and bit, without breaking my skin. Hot tremors of ecstasy shot like wildfire over my flesh, and I sucked my lip into my mouth, to keep from screaming at the erotic torment.
My skirt dropped to the ground, and I stepped out of it. Clad only in my matching bra and ruined panties, I waited for him to rid me of them.
“Go stand in the light, London,” he whispered. “I can see you perfectly here, but you can’t see me that well.”
I walked to the center of the room, feeling the heat of his gaze on me. When I reached the spot, I turned around to face him.
“You’re fucking beautiful,” he said.
The blaze in his eyes made me tremble, as I saw their raw hunger. I realized then that was why he had wanted me to go into the lit area. He wanted me to see his reaction for myself and judge it.
“Turn around.”
I did as he asked. He then circled his arms around my waist, pulling me back against his chest, before he reached up to unhook the clasp of my demi-bra in the front. The cups loosened and dropped away, and then the weight of my breasts filled his hands.
Groaning into my ear, he rocked his hips against my bottom, as he kneaded my breasts in his hands and pinched my nipples between his knuckles, giving me that twinge of pleasured pain, which added further decimation to the last tiny piece of cloth covering me.
His hand slid down my stomach, to the lace, and he ran his index finger under it, from left to right and back.
“Tell me you’re mine, London,” Zane said, with his face buried in my hair, my breast in his hand, and a finger trailing closer to where I needed him with a cloying desperation. “Say it.”
“But… my…. But….” I stuttered, not knowing what I was trying to say.
Random words were falling out of my mouth, as I fought for something coherent to respond to his demand.
He ground into me again, and we moaned together.
“Is torturing my cock.”
“Zane!”
He abandoned my bereft pussy, and his fingers grasped a bunch of my hair at my scalp. He held me secure and pulled down, making me face upwards and look at him.
“Yes, London. Me. Say it.”
We stared at each other. I was almost naked, feverish and frenzied for him to take me, and he was fighting to make me see him for more than I had.
As I looked at him and thought about my life, the men who had been a part of it, none of them compared to the man holding me at that moment. In the short hours of the night, he had shown me his character in all the ways I had initially feared, but in reality, he hadn’t done anything that wasn’t to my benefit. All the others I had known would have left me to my own devices, to struggle. Zane hadn’t.
“I belong to you, Zane.”
The words left my lips as if it were the most natural thing to say.
He let go of my hair and flipped me around to face him, before attacking my mouth and wiping away any lingering doubts I had.
My hips jostled at the hard tug, as the lace ripped apart, and the last barrier between us dropped to the floor. His hands braced my spine, as he bent forward, with me in his arms. I arched backwards, holding onto him, as he slid his tongue over mine, stoking my heat into an inferno.
Without warning, he stilled and looked out the window.
“Fuck,” he said, easing me up. “Get dressed, baby. The sun’s coming up.”
“Wha—?”
“We’ve got to get the fuck out of here quick.” He gave me a peck on my lips. “Let’s go, London.”
Protected by Copyright: Elaine Barris, Author