Flame - the Sandstone Affair Part 3 Read online

  “You too,” He says casually, as if he just met me at a café and is inviting me to join him for tea.

  “Mark, I’m exhausted,” I gasp. “Mentally, physically, emotionally exhausted.”

  “Sit down,” He responds sternly. I obey in an instant, plopping down beside him.

  “You could have stopped our deal at any time. I’ve given you chance after chance to say you don’t want to submit to me. But every time you continue to give yourself to my instructions, my desires and directions. Every time you keep the deal. Do you know why I even offered you our deal?” He looks directly at me; his beautiful eyes trying to make contact with my soul. For a moment I feel myself opening to him and then before I can speak, the hard protective shell covers my heart and mouth.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Free sex for a change?”

  “I’ve paid for a lot of things in this world, but I’ve never had to pay for sex,” he counters, batting away my bitter retort like a horse swats a fly. Even when I don’t want him to be, he’s perfect.

  “Because I’m so hot?” I ask disagreeably.

  “Because you are so sad,” He says, all humor falling from the sky. “So lonely, so…lost.”

  “That’s not your business.”

  “I think it is. I’ve watched you bully employees, push your weight around, shut out honest offers of friendship and stoke the fires of rage and regret. Lynx isn’t a job; it’s a battle ground where you pit your passion and talent against anything you can find. You win. You always win because you give it everything you have, and you have so much. So when I saw you in my office that day, ready to tear the building apart with your bare hands, I knew you needed help.”

  “Of course I needed help, Mark, I was robbed.”

  “Not help with Lynx. Help with life. Help with love. I knew you needed at least one person in your life who was willing to tell you ‘no’. You need someone gentle enough to listen and strong enough to give you direction. You didn’t just need another man to push against. You needed a man who wouldn’t be pushed and who would give you the freedom to accept what’s given to you, not just the ability to get what you want. You need submission, Julia. It’s not just a game, it’s a gift. For both of us.”

  The hot stinging tears forming in the corner of my eye threaten to fall. I stare at the ceiling, willing them back but it’s too late. I drop my head and try to look away but he puts his hand under my chin and catches my tears in his palm.

  “Don’t hide these,” he says, showing me small wet dots on his hand. “Tears are honest. Real. And they are part of you too. Don’t fight them. Let them fall.”

  I try to push his hand away but he brings it back, holding my shoulders then brushing my hair off my forehead.

  “You don’t understand,” I gurgle. “You’ve never needed anything in your whole life.”

  “That’s not true. I have needs, just like everyone,” he says quietly.

  “Really?” I pull myself back, forcing him to lower his hands from my face and drop them to my shoulders. “Name one thing you have ever needed.”

  Mark reaches up and lets his finger run across my cheek following the path of my tears. He looks directly at me, no distraction, no diversion, just truth.

  “I need you.”

  His eyes are open wide, looking into mine, his face open and soft, a sheepish grin crinkling the corners of his eyelids. I consider the vulnerability on his face, realizing for the first time that his strong exterior protected a heart that was just as capable of feeling as my own.

  I lean forward to kiss him, praying he will take charge again. He does. His lips cover mine and his arm pulls me closer toward him. He envelops me and kisses me deeply, pulling back just long enough to give me a few small kisses then embracing me with his lips once more.

  Reaching out, I put my hands on his chest rubbing it and pulling at his buttons. His hold on me is so strong and I feel such comfort in his arms. I want to be even closer, held tighter. I want to be part of him and I want him in me. I place my hand on his pants and begin to rub, hoping to see arousal in his eyes.

  “Hey,” he whispers. “I’m the boss in that department, remember? I’m the one who gets to say.”

  I continue rubbing and pushing against him, moving my kisses across his cheek to his ear where I speak clearly.

  “Then, say. Because I really need this now.”

  “Not too tired?” Mark asks, his smile returning.

  “No. Not at all.”

  “Good,” he says. Mark puts his strong left arm under my legs and with his right arm looped around my shoulders he lifts me into the air, kissing me lightly as he carries me toward my bedroom.

  Placing me on the bed, he begins kissing and touching me gently. It is so different from his rough thrusts, and so much like the gentle man he usually becomes afterward. I try to hurry him a bit, reaching down to lift my shirt, when he puts his hand on mine.

  “Before you do that, I need a decision. A real one. If you think your sexual submission to me is profane, then we should call it off. That doesn’t mean I’ll leave, or even that I’ll stop needing you. It just means we have to go about this differently.”

  Refusing to answer the question with words, I pull my top over my head and unhook my bra, dropping it dramatically on floor. He smiles. I place my hands under my breasts and lift them to him – the most fitting offering I can imagine at the time. He accepts my desire, lowering his chin and taking my nipple in his mouth, sucking and pulling on it rhythmically while his hands continue to undress me.

  When he is naked too, he positions his body between my legs but continues to knead and nurture my breasts. Eventually he runs his tongue up and down my tummy and side, causing me to quiver all over. Placing my hands on his sides as he hovers over me, I begin to slide down, hoping to take his penis in my mouth, but he stops me.

  “Tonight, it’s for you. Just you,” he says and guides my head back the pillow. He continues to lick and caress me until his tongue finds its way to my mound. He licks both sides of my lips, his tongue occasionally diving deep inside, feeling the wetness bubble out of me. Finding my clit he sucks and licks around it, pulling it from its hood and enlivening my body until I feel I may spontaneously combust.

  My hips are rising as my breath begins to quicken. I am so close to release when he slows to a stop.

  “No,” I whine, fearing he might just leave me in the heightened state until I go mad with lust. He chuckles a second and pulls himself up, placing his cock between my engorged lips, right at the entry point. Knowing the power of his thrusts, I bite my bottom lip and wait for it, but, instead he moves slowly- deliberately – into my body.

  He surges into me in small strokes, then pulls out slowly, only to surge again. The back and forth motion of his cock inside me sets my whole body to his pulse. My hips come up to meet his thrusts and descend with his pull. In my mind I am lying on a raft in the ocean, the deep blue waves crest against me gently as I float on the rippling water. Just floating there, without a fear, or care, in the world, each wave as steady and pleasing as the next.

  Then I feel his thumb resting on my clit rubbing circles on it as he pushes in me and presses downward with his movement out. Now my mind, body and soul are on the raft and the ocean underneath me is building in speed and volume. I hold onto the sides of the bed for fear the waves will topple me and I feel it – a giant tsunami of pleasure – churning towards me. My cry starts so softly, like a dove coo, but by the time the power of the wave is ready to crest I am moaning loudly, begging for it to crash down on me and take me out to sea. Then it hits me.

  The spasm is deep inside me and long. I move with the sensation, my entire channel pulsing with the rhythm rocking up and down as my mind explodes while the pleasure takes me under, quivering and throbbing on the end of him. I don’t know if he is making sounds or not, I am drowning in my release when I feel his seed spurting within me.

  He stands after he withdraws from my body and lifts me a few inches, moving m
e to the center of the bed, out of the wet spot. He lies in my place and pulls me close to him. I want to tell him I don’t really mind the remnants of our encounter, but discover I’m not ready to speak quite yet.

  He runs his hands through my hair, and moves his finger over my body. I collect myself in time and finally am able to find my voice when he speaks before I can.

  “I think I might have missed your answer,” Mark says with his usual confidence. “What do you want to do about the deal?”

  “Why Mr. Stone, Sir,” I say doing my best Scarlett O’Hara impersonation. “I’m yours to command.”

  ~~~

  Twenty days ago I never would have been awakened by the sun streaming through my window. Most days, by now, I would have been showered, dressed and in my office at Lynx looking over writing samples and editing first drafts. But now, I’m curling under the covers enjoying the sleepy morning moment. Stretching, I reach out and jump when I feel something unexpected.

  “Mark!” I exclaim, trying to recall exactly what day of the week it is and why there is a man in my bed when last night’s sensuous love making returns to my mind.

  “You were expecting someone else?”

  “No, I…um…well…” I stammer a moment trying to think of something to say other than I woke up in a fog and didn’t remember the love we made last night, even though it was one of the deepest experiences of my sexual life so far. “I am just surprised you’re still in bed. I expected you to be making breakfast or something.”

  “Actually,” he replies with a tone of good humor to his voice. “I did get up to make us some breakfast but unless you want a meal made of half-opened expired yogurt, a cracked egg, some cabbage and teriyaki sauce we are out of luck. Don’t you eat?”

  “Not lately,” I confess. “I’ve been a little busy – you know, saving my magazine, supporting my father, being a sex slave, getting my car washed…”

  “Speaking of the sex slave thing,” Mark chuckled uncomfortably. “I guess we should talk.”

  “I thought we cleared that up last night.”

  “We did. We absolutely did. But I wanted to make sure it was your brain and heart talking and not just the waves of orgasmic bliss. We are progressing farther into the deal and things are going to get more challenging, more serious and I need to know you are fully up to the tasks.”

  “Yes,” I take a deep breath, trying to imagine just what we could do that would challenge me more than he already has. “I am ready for whatever’s next.”

  “Good,” he nods as we endure an awkward silence so painful I start yammering to fill the room with something besides static.

  “It’s been tough, you know… um… submitting. I am so used to being in charge of everything. To be told, and to do what you’re told, hasn’t been in my world for a long time. In fact, it wasn’t really a part of my world even when I was young. My dad always encouraged me to challenge the system. My mom always wanted me to beat it.”

  “That’s part of the problem. It’s good to know when to take, but it’s crucial to know how to give. Pushing people around isn’t the same as relating to them.”

  “In college they drill into you that reporters have to be aggressive. You have to take what you want, you have to rip the story out of the shadows, and you have to control your environment. I thought I was doing my job. I actually thought it was a compliment when I found out the staff secretly called me Miss Shark.”

  “Miss Shark?” Mark laughs at the nickname.

  “Yes,” I blush as I tell him. “But lately I’ve realized it’s not who I want to be. When Kenneth Allen referred to that name in my office I actually cringed. Hearing it come out of his mouth just showed me what an ugly image it could be.”

  “Well, the line between aggressive and assertive is really blurry to a lot of people,” Mark leans back against the headboard to wax philosophic.

  “I suppose so, maybe it was too blurry for me and I crossed the line a long time ago. I was just afraid, I think. Afraid of being seen as weak, being walked over, so I did anything I could to appear strong.”

  Mark is silent. I’m not sure if he heard me or if his mind is somewhere else. He sits straight up and looks at me. “Wait a minute. When did Kenneth Allen call you Miss Shark?”

  I blink, unsure of where he’s going with this question, “The day he fired me. He sat right behind me desk and mentioned how the staff refers to me as Miss Shark.”

  “But how did he know that?” Mark grew urgent in his questioning; his eyes lighting up. “He’s Blake’s lawyer. He never worked with you after the acquisition until recently. How would he know what they call you?”

  Mark’s tone with this line of questioning sets me on edge and I prop my back against the headboard, “Blake probably told him, I would assume.”

  “And how would Blake know?” Mark says in a stern, direct fashion. He isn’t accusing me but it was clear he senses something is wrong.

  “I don’t know,” I say, climbing out of bed and putting a robe on. My body feels delicious after night together but this line of questioning was dramatically increasing my tension. “I don’t know how Blake knows my nickname, how he stole from my company or how he knows what stories we ran. All I know is he took my world away!”

  “I think those questions all have the same answer. How did you find out they called you Miss Shark? I mean, I’m sure they didn’t call you that to your face.”

  “Janice told me over tea one day. At first it was just a few employees. But when I started reviewing their inter-office communication I noticed it all over. I’d see things that said, ‘Miss Shark gonna yell when she sees my word count’ or ‘Meeting with Miss Shark, scary!’ and I would smile. They don’t know I can see their inter-office IM’s so I just pretend I don’t know what’s happening.”

  “How do you see the messages?” Mark asks.

  “Through the software from you guys. About a year or so ago the IT guy from Sandstone Ventures came by and put software on my computer. He said the company had a policy that all properties have to use it and monitor the online activities of staff. So, I can actually open up anyone’s computer from my office and see what they are doing, or what they are writing. When I started seeing ‘MS’ and realizing what it meant, it made me laugh.”

  “We don’t have any software like that! And we don’t set policy for our properties. We just handle the capital.” Mark jumps out of bed and starts frantically looking for his clothes. “That’s it! That’s how he did it.”

  Mark gets dressed and heads toward the door mumbling about techs and codes and backdoors. I jump in front of him to stop him from leaving without saying goodbye.

  “Breakfast will have to wait,” Mark pats my shoulder, attempting to push me to the side. “I need to get to the office. Better yet, I need to get to your office.”

  “What are you talking about?” I block the door until I get some kind of reasonable response.

  “That’s how Blake’s been embezzling money. He’s using your system, your software. The program that lets you see into your staff’s computers is letting him into yours. It’s got a backdoor that links him to you. He got more money than Lynx has, but I’m sure with the right records we could track his transactions through your office.”

  “Let’s call the cops, now!” I say knowing I’ll lose this argument for the three-hundredth time.

  “It’s not enough to know it Julia, we have to prove it. I need to get inside your office.”

  “Impossible. I’m sure they changed the locks when they threw me out and my contact says they have all new codes and passwords. Besides, if they catch you in my office, it’s going to tip them off you know.”

  “Then I need someone on the inside. I need to meet your contact.”

  At Mark’s sudden desire to meet Janice, I stall. She’s the one piece of the puzzle that I still control. Do I trust Mark enough to give her up to him? What would it mean for Janice and for me, if he betrayed us all? My mind jumps back to the anonymous
text I received weeks ago: “Do Not Trust Him.” How would Janice take the news that I was sleeping with Mark? What would she think of my deal with him? Would she think that I was making a serious mistake?

  “I need to think about it. I can’t just risk my contact for a whim,” I say with a little more defiance than I need to display right now. Mark’s jaws lock and his eyes narrow for a moment.

  “That’s a pretty curious attitude for a woman who runs around assaulting people and whose whims have made my attempts to get to the truth a nightmare.” Mark grumbles. I soften my features and let him know I’m not trying to be difficult, just safe. “But fine, you think about it. But don’t take too long. The clock hasn’t stopped to consider the consequences.”