Page 59 of The Cartographer

Allie’s mouth has always been a good distraction, so I drag him down to kiss, his perfectly supple lips giving way to mine. For the last thirty torturous seconds of the song, I kiss him, drawing him in with both hands, my fingers and mouth demanding he yield to me, and he does.

I suck at his lower lip, making it swollen and sensitive, the better to bite. Which I do—hard enough to make him gasp—before finding his tongue with mine. Luckily, the next song isn’t so filled with earnest longing, and I can pretend the things I want—Allie naked and on his knees for me, Allie in my bed, Allie craning his neck to beg for a collar—are fueled by lust.

It’s not ideal to be this attached to one of my charges, but it’s happened before. Not exactly like this, though. It’s been one thing or another. Sexual or emotional. Intellectual or the aligning of stars in the kink universe. For someone to get such high marks across the board is unheard of. Only India’s ever come so close, and that was never a real possibility for the obvious reasons. No wonder I’m feeling a bit out of my depth.

One more night then of indulgent debauchery. One more night I’ll allow us this…infatuation. That’s what it is. That’sallit is. And tomorrow…tomorrow I’ll set about finding someone good enough for my Hart.

Chapter Nineteen


In the dulllight of the early morning, I sneak downstairs to where Matthew’s in front of his computer already.

“Coffee, sir?”

“Please.”

If Matthew’s surprised I’ve stumbled down here in sweats and a T-shirt, he doesn’t let it show. Just gets up and heads to the kitchen. I don’t ask how long he’s been here or how long he’ll stay. I hardly ever have to worry about him or what he’s doing. He gets his stuff done and would no matter how much or how little attention I pay him.

Besides, we’ve both got the same agenda. Leave our men in bed to sleep and get our work done so we can go back and enjoy their company without the mundane to-do list eating at the pleasurable hours of the day.

So I get down to it, sorting my emails and voicemails, looking at my calendar and asking Matthew to make travel arrangements. I’m going to be out of town a lot for the next several months. Yet another reason I should start looking for someone else to take Allie. He deserves better than a part-time partner. It works well for Cris and India, but Allie’s not like Cris, who enjoys quiet and solitude and plenty of time to get out on his surfboard or putter around in the kitchen. Nor is he like India, who has so much space in her brain taken up by running her business.

No, Allie’s a social creature. He needs attention. He should have someone who will come home to him every day. If not every day, most days. Not like me, who spends the majority of my life telling other people what to do with theirs and gallivanting around the world to do it.

Matthew and I work in companionable silence for a few hours, and I wave him off around ten-thirty when he asks if I need anything before he goes.

“No, thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I smile at his “yes, sir” as he heads out the door to be with his lover. Speaking of…I’m surprised Allie hasn’t shuffled downstairs yet. He’s not usually such a late sleeper, and it’s not as though I was hard on him last night.

After I finish up the last of the imperative emails, I decide he’s slept long enough. Selfish perhaps, but that’s a perk of being me. If I want something, I get to say so, and it’s rare I get turned down.

Upstairs, there’s silence in the hallway. As there should be. Soundproofing doesn’t come cheap, but I’ve got the best. God love my contractors for being the best in the business. Opening the door to my room, I’m expecting the soft, even sounds of dreaming breaths. But no, there’s no Allie in my bed, and there’s light streaming out from under the bathroom door along with music. What is…

A smile spreads across my face as I recognize the Jackson Five playing on tinny speakers over the spray of the shower. I’ve got to teach him how to use the stereo system because the sound quality on his cell is terrible.

I knock softly before entering, but given how loud he’s got the music turned up, there’s no way he’s going to hear me. Honestly, I’d like to catch a glimpse of unguarded Allie. It’s not something I get to see outside of when we’re doing a scene or having sex. I understand why he tends to be somewhat uneasy around me. Most people are, until they’re completely comfortable. God do I love that tipping point. I coax people over the edge, issue invitations, hold out my hand, encourage them in any way I can, but always that last step is their own.

I get why Allie isn’t there yet, but I want to shove him over.Give yourself to me already.He makes me impatient, which is a dangerous thing. I shake the thought from my head, because right now all I want to do is enjoy him. And he makes it so damn easy.

When I’ve stepped into the bathroom, he’s standing in the shower, shampoo bottle in hand and he’s using it for a microphone. The song’s switched over, and he’s belting it out now, asking someone to love him till they don’t know how. It hits me someplace I don’t want to think about, so instead I focus on how he’s moving and that body.

Naked with water sluicing down his dark brown skin while he jams out to the sounds, narrow hips circling and swiveling in a way that makes me want to pin them down and force him to be still for me. He’s got perfect rhythm, and he’s having so much damn fun he doesn’t even notice I’m here. So I watch him, loving the unconscious way he moves, how his muscles flex and slide. The perfect curve of his buttocks, the mouth-watering thickness of his thighs, and the strong planes of his back. The swell of his biceps as he curls the shampoo bottle closer to hit a high note. Impressive.

It’s then he executes a tight turn under the fall of water and strikes a pose that makes him look like a goddamn Adonis. That broad chest with the ink I’ve come to respect, if not love. The washboard abs the water clings to and I don’t blame it at all, though I’d rather lick it off. And that thick cock lying heavy against his thigh.

I’ve had enough of watching.

He opens his eyes then, catching me staring, and instead of getting that dark flush in his cheeks, he grins, and I can’t help but return the expression with a shake of my head. He is, quite simply, delightful.

With a pause of no more than a beat, he starts up his dancing again, extending an arm and beckoning to me through the glass. I could say no. Demand he get out so I can drag him downstairs to the dungeon and do all kinds of things to that body I’ve been admiring. Make him cry out in surrender and pleading, force him into letting me into the depths of himself. But he is already, in the sweetest of ways. He’s inviting me to share in his exuberant display of joy, and hell if I’d ever say no to that.

So I strip off my T-shirt, aiming for the laundry basket in the corner but not caring when I fall short, and push the loose sweats over my hips and to the floor. I strut toward him, picking up his rhythm, and it’s so ridiculous I have to laugh. Yeah, we’re dancing with the damn stars in my bathroom. Before I get there, I take his cell off the counter, press a few buttons, and suddenly Michael’s flooding the bathroom through the speakers. That’s more like it.

I push open the glass door and step through to join Allie under the flow of water. Unsurprisingly, he’s not figured out the whole system, and I take a minute to turn on the side jets so we’re completely soaked and spinning in surround spray. Never have I been so happy I insisted on such an indulgently enormous shower stall. It’s come in handy before, but there’s something about this that makes me feel like, yes, of course, this is its sole purpose: aquatic dance party.

Allie makes room for me and we dance. Not close like we had last night because, for the moment, this isn’t about sex. It’s about fun, the ecstasy of moving to music and being carefree. Why don’t I do this more often? I know why. My gaze wanders guiltily to the sweats in a heap on the floor, knowing I silenced my phone and there’s probably someone calling me right now, needing me.