Page 69 of Mastered By Desire

“Will you be there tomorrow morning, around nine?”

“Yeah, I’ll be here.” I don’t want to meet him in my room because that seems far too intimate with the king-sized bed taking up the bulk of the area. “Call me when you get here and I’ll meet you down in the lobby.”

“Great. See you tomorrow, Miss Shreve.”

The call ends, and I’m left staring at my phone. I wonder what Wentz has to say about Mick or the maybe-loan-sharks who think I can pay off Mick’s debts.

My phone screen lights up with a call from Dmitri.

I ignore it.

Dmitri

Having Leah on my couch never felt right. That’s because I wanted her in my bed.

But now she’s gone entirely, it feels even worse.

I don’t see how some shitty hotel is going to make her feel better.

I fucked up so bad.

When I get home from work, I call her. I don’t know what I’m going to say. I need to make things right. I’ll apologize, of course. Beg her to reconsider. I probably can’t convince her to stay. But I guess it doesn’t matter because she doesn’t answer.

I collapse onto the side of the couch where she usually sits. The blanket she used is folded up next to me. I pull it into my lap and try to find her scent. A little flowery, a little sweet.

That was the best sex of my life, here on this couch with Leah. My dick hardens as I recall the way she lifted up and down on me, her eyes wild with lust. The control I had when I restricted her breathing, the way I played her body.

The way she played mine.

I can’t resist reaching for my waistband, unbuttoning my jeans, easing the ache.

It doesn’t take much with the memory playing in my mind. Four strokes, five, six—it won’t take long. I don’t care, I need, need, need?—

I need her. And she isn’t here.

I erupt over my jeans and shirt. A big fucking mess.

It’s the saddest orgasm I’ve ever had.

Gage

No matter how far I run on the treadmill in my home gym, I can’t escape thoughts of Leah.

I can’t explain it, but I’m genuinely worried about her. I find myself wanting to call her. If only to hear her voice and make sure she’s all right.

My apartment is large. Large enough for another person, easily. My spare bedroom is available. It has never even been used, because I’ve never invited anyone over.

This entire line of thinking is preposterous. She’s staying with Dmitri, anyway.

On his couch, if the glimpse I had into his house is anything to go by. It doesn’t look large enough for two bedrooms.

Are they sharing a bed? The thought arouses envy and lust, both. I’ll never be close enough to a woman to allow her into my bed; I made my peace with this fact a long time ago.

Yet the mental images I’ve stored of her taking his cock in her mouth, and then later the way she rubbed her cunt on my thigh while he and I played with those delectable breasts of hers…I want more of that.

I spent so many of my formative years being watched. Now I want to be the one who does the watching.

Leah

---