Scrupulous (An Affliction of Falling Novel Book 1) Page 12

  “You may not realize it, but I am just as disciplined as you, sticking to my tried-and-true rules and regulations. How I practice is foundationally the same; the level simply gets turned up in the dungeon as that is what works for me.”

  I think about that for a moment as I cut some more limes and fill our tub. Thinking of one’s sexual practices as a volume button, turning it up and down based on desire or circumstances while the quality and structural foundations remain the same is quite poetic in my crazy head.

  “You all right? The silence is deafening over there. You might give yourself a stroke thinking that hard,” he jokes, and I unfurrow my brow at the jab.

  “Things are complicated.” I already can see where this is going.

  “How complicated can dating someone be?”

  I cringe at his mention of dating. “We are not dating!”

  “Just fuck buddies then?” he jests.

  Who am I kidding, it is more than that. “I cooked him breakfast after he spent the night, two nights actually.”

  Samuel almost falls over the bar and has to abruptly set the rack of glasses he was moving down. “Can you repeat that?” he scoffs.

  “I know! Shit. I don’t know what to do about him! He keeps popping up and refusing to leave. Wields my body like a fine piece of armory without a second thought. Pisses me off but I can’t tell him no. Bastard is getting all possessive and jealous. It’s all a bunch of foreign nonsense that I don’t have time for. He completely distracted me last night from all of my Samhain-planned traditions!” I had a routine every Halloween, one I liked to stick to, and I completely forgot what day it was the minute I saw him.

  “Ahhh, you’re getting turned out by a Dom. I never thought I would see the day where she would be all grown up, letting a man stay the night, and getting domestic. Brings a fine tear to my eye to know you didn’t spend Halloween holed up by yourself, eating candy corn and watching Young Frankenstein.”

  “You are such an arse; I really wanted that candy corn.” I chuck a lime at him.

  “Didn’t think you would be into the hard kinky shit, though.” Samuel adjusts his vest and bow tie, muscled physique showing through as he is void of a shirt underneath.

  “I don’t think I am. He’s not like that with me.” Not entirely.

  “Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle. It would appear that you are changing him just as much as he is changing you. It’s fucking beautiful.” He pretend sniffs.

  “Please, stop. I am not asking him to change for me. He’s free to be and do as he pleases. He can continue to be the big, bad Dom he is rumored to be. When we are together, I get a sense we both become a bit off-kilter though. Something else takes over. But, I really like what he’s introduced me to so far. Why am I telling you all of this?” My annoyed stance is evident.

  “You need to get out of that head of yours is why, and who else can you confide in on this level? Breonna? Jade wouldn’t get the kink; Ben and Molly are the relationship types and have never understood your promiscuity. That leaves me.”

  “Yeah, you are just as fucked up as me.”

  “Right. We are probably the most sane and emotionally free ones of the bunch; normal social constraints don’t burden us. We have a higher level of consciousness in regards to the infinite possibilities of love and relationships, allowing our minds to be free.”

  “Or that is what we tell ourselves to justify our lack of morals and sanity?”

  “That would mean admitting we have a problem. No, definitely not. We are like some metaphysical bodhivstas practicing the higher conscious self.” He begins to chant “Ohm.”

  “Yeah, that’s it,” I laugh. It is nice to converse with a fellow-minded kinky individual whose main concern is my wellbeing, and not getting into my pants.

  “Now, this problem you have named Gavin. Is it really all that bad? I’ve had a boyfriend once, well, twice to be exact. Neither lasted long, but there were some upsides to what I remember. Rather liked it, been thinking about doing it again.” Samuel says reminiscently as he lines up his shakers.

  “Oh, really? What’s his name?” my lips crook in a half smile.

  “Reed. The sweet sub from the club, keep coming back around to him. He suggested a possible contract.”

  “Damn, doesn’t that beat all? Am I to be the last one standing then?”

  “From the sounds of it, you don’t have to be. Here, quick, look at this.” Samuel runs to the mini back room and I follow in my thigh-high black leather boots, cursing myself for wearing the damn things. He pulls a small jewelry box out and beams as he opens it to show me the tasteful and masculine gold chain. It would be quite flattering against the young man’s skin tone.

  “I am guessing this means you are taking him up on his suggestion. This passes as a collar?”

  “Yeah, surprised you remembered.”

  “There may be gaps in my knowledge on the lifestyle, but I paid close attention to all things stamped ‘commitment’ so I knew to avoid them,” I chuckle as I lean heavily into the doorframe.

  “Do you think he will like it?”

  “Babe, you could give that sweet thing a string of rope tied together and he would wear it with pride. It’s beautiful.” Sadness drifts through me and a sense of self-imposed loneliness takes residence in the pit of my stomach.

  “Time to go. You ready for this?” Samuel asks, pulling me from the emotional drowning taking place.

  “Hells ya, should be quite entertaining.” He slaps my barely covered bottom causing me to yelp and reminds me that no matter how chummy we get, he will always be a Dom.

  The night went quite well and proved to be more than entertaining. The jolly yet good-natured sexiness of it was comforting. Normally, in a bar, there is a whole lot of game playing and façade constructing that goes on in order for patrons to try to pull a good time, if they were even that lucky. This was an honest version of the very same thing─ all members stripped of any preconceived notions or ill-constructed fronts. The night was void of pointless conversation and individuals attempting to either attract another from across the room with tricks of the trade or run away from shoddy pick-up attempts. Anyone in attendance was here intentionally for the same reasons. You approached or were approached, the answer was either yes or no, and you went from there. Some preferred to sit at the bar for most of the evening to watch the festivities but most took turns rotating from the bar back into the crowd. Many wore masks and fancy caps and capes, an attempt at a masquerade theme even though almost everyone walked around pretty much naked, with a few wisps of clothing here and there.

  As Samuel had put it, it really was a jam-packed fuck fest with expensive décor and booze. After the initial semi-shock of seeing people openly going at it on multiple surfaces of the bar, my mind became swept up in its own world.

  My thoughts often drifted to Gavin as I went through the motions of pouring drink after drink; the mindless chatter, moans and slapping of flesh all fading to nothing more than stereo noise. The Velvet Rope plagued me and had me wondering if I would ever be fully comfortable with the lifestyle as it was such a part of who he was. I suppose I should give it a go. I am not a prude and have liked what he’s introduced me to thus far. What gives me pause is the so-called etiquette and rules that couples engage in─ submissive poses, kneeling to another, being toted around like a toy, completely giving your control over to another one hundred percent. I envied those who could do it, but I’m not sure that I am capable. Or, is it that I am not sure that I can truly be what he needs.

  Gavin

  “Speak,” I say in a clipped tone into the receiver of my hands-free set at the intruding call.

  “Such a welcoming way to answer the phone for your boss. Gives me the warm and fuzzies,” Daz’s raspy voice rings out through the speaker.

  “I knew who it was, newfangled thing called caller ID and all.”

  “Ha-ha. Get your ass over to the Haight St. Club. Some douche bag thinks it’s okay to express their Godly
views and is causing a scene, pissing off my regulars. I don’t give a fuck what church they crawled from─ make sure they understand that religion and politics don’t have a place in my establishments. Shove a pecker up their ass just to get the point across if you have to.”

  “Let me guess, you don’t give a shit if I have other plans.” I flip a bitch down 19th and head back towards the club. So much for picking up my favorite street tacos to bring back to Sorcha’s.

  “You? Have other plans? I am your plans, motherfucker. Seriously, you know I can’t send anyone else. You are the only one I have who can handle these situations the way I need them dealt with.”

  “Ah, Daz, love you too.”

  “Fuck off, asshole.”

  “Done and done, boss.”

  What the hell am I going to do? There is no way I will be back to Sorcha’s place in time. Not showing up will surely piss her off and set my plight back. She isn’t the most open, trusting person as it is. This will cut all my work off at the knees.

  Jesus and the thought of spending a night away from her is more than I can bear. I was looking forward to getting lost in her softness and breathing in her sweet cries of pleasure. Now I get to go handle some asshole who thinks it’s their God-given right to tell others how to live their life.

  I used to get off on missions like this, now they are unpleasant side effects of my specific career choice. Security and PI work on a high-end level, sought after for my degree of discretion and efficiency if you will, has always done me well. Someday, I will be able to step back from the hands-on aspect of it so I can be more hands on with other developments.

  I just bought an old beach home foreclosure on the outskirts of Half Moon Bay that needs a lot of work. It was a way for me to keep busy and deal with my stress in a new way. My brother from across the pond told me I needed a hobby, which could be about right. Sex certainly had begun to lose its appeal, and I needed an escape to call my own.

  Funny, thoughts of that place have slipped into the back of my mind as well since I’ve become addicted to a piece of ass that keeps trying to push me away. Ah, hell, maybe some distance for a night might do us both some good. I can’t think clearly as it is when we are together.

  Sorcha

  Getting out of the cab barefoot, carrying my boots with me, I am surprised not to see Gavin leaning against my building looking dangerous. Huh. Heading in and up the stairs with my heart beating faster, it quickly sinks when I realize that he isn’t in my hallway either. Is he not coming? Bastard better not have let himself into my flat with his questionable methods. Opening my door and readying myself to yell at him, I find the studio empty and dark. It is four in the morning; guess he isn’t coming.

  Showering and climbing into bed, I toss and turn over this odd sense of… disappointment? I don’t even have his cell phone number to call him, and I don’t have any missed messages from him. God knows he probably has that information too. Bastard, abusing his privileges to pry into people’s lives.

  ∞

  I’m submerged in the dark room at the studio, my hands working rhythmically over the film as I prepare the latest roll of negatives. Exposing the film, I gently soak it in water to slightly swell the gelatin layer before moving it to the developer bath. A bit old school of me, but it was my personal opinion that this small step produced better negatives to work from by potentiating the following chemical baths. This roll would be black and white. Well, most of my work was done in that gradient as it was a more elegant and timeless form. Occasionally, I allowed small bits of color here and there but kept to the overall grey scale. As my films slip into the stop bath, I hear the side door open to the small room, which makes me bristle. Not all my film is through the complete dark process and the risk of any light could ruin them. Fucking newbies always inpatient, trying to rush others out of the box so that they can get started.

  “I am almost done in here, if you could please give me another fifteen minutes,” I ask as nicely as I can without looking up from my task. This was a crucial step in my madness of processing and needs a close eye. The one issue with renting studio time is sharing space. Even when you schedule in advance, a few are sometimes overlapped. But even so, when the damn light is on over the outside door, don’t come in!

  “Should I come back then?” Gavin’s timbre caresses me from across the short distance, causing my skin to goose bump on impact.

  “Look who the cat dragged in. Doesn’t know how to let a girl know when he isn’t going to show but keeps up his grade-A stalking.” It isn’t all that surprising he found out where I am. His shenanigans are becoming less and less alarming despite them being far from normal. Between his underhanded methods and Samuel ratting me out, I don’t stand a chance.

  “When were you going to tell me about this little skill of yours?” His displeased tone hints with disappointment.

  “Kinda hard to have a proper conversation when all we do is fuck and argue. And you didn’t answer the question.” My eyes stay glued to the film as I use the tongs to rotate the pieces from bath to bath.

  “Work ran late. There is nothing left to say.” The fabric of his dress shirt sighs with his shrug and his finality on the topic rings out.

  Hanging a few strips of negatives to dry, I move the last into the stop bath and focus on the few in the fixer solution that need to enter the washing stage.

  “If it is that cut and dry, then why are you here?” I dismissively retort.

  “Do you honestly think after how you acted last night that I was going to rush right over after work? You needed time to think about things. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, pet.”

  My cheeks heat under a surge of anger, and I take a few deep breaths. “Sod off, Gavin. I don’t do games. And I don’t do people telling me what I do and don’t need.”

  In the span of a few more cleansing inhalations, he comes up behind me and runs his hand up the back of my neck in a tender fashion, making me tremble slightly in pleasure. My spine suddenly goes rod straight under the onslaught of exquisite contact, knowing full well it’s laced with a tinge of aggression. My suspicions are confirmed when he continues into my hair. Grabbing a handful, he inclines my head back into him about an inch. Just enough to verge on uncomfortable but still remain erotic.

  “Sorcha, did it ever cross your mind that you may need a little help with developing better communication with those who are in your life?” he purrs, running the tip of his nose down my neck.

  “Of course, Sir. Would you please get your paws off me before my film is ruined?” I grit out, trying not to give into the inebriating invitation. As quickly as I had been wrangled, I am released. As I rapidly move the last of my films into the wash and up to dry, the silence becomes suffocating as his unyielding presence doesn’t move an inch. His quiet, commanding edge begins to close in on me.

  As the last is clipped onto the line, I move to wash my hands at the little room’s sinks but don’t get as far as drying before he flips me around, cradles my head, and slants his mouth hard over mine. His mouth demands entrance and I part, giving him all I had, unnamed longing ruling over logic. The effect is dizzying, sending any ill feelings skittering off. Pulling away, he gazes at me under the red glow of the tiny black room’s processing light.

  “I’ve been hungry for that since I left you standing in the kitchen all wet,” he growls.

  “Stop. If you want to improve our communication, then how about we actually try talking? I agree some space was needed after yesterday’s conversation, but telling someone that you will see them after work and never showing up is a bit rude. If you want me to open up to you more, then you have to talk to me. I am not the kind of girl who will be blowing up your phone and begging for you every minute of the day. If you need to work or take care of something, I respect that and don’t need a full reasoning on the whys, just the heads-up.” I slip out from his grasp, shaking the effect off to gather up my supplies and put them away in my assigned cabinet. Time here is precious and
leaving the space ready for the next is important.

  “For someone who just wants to be fuck buddies, that is a bit of a lofty request,” he says, scoffing.

  “No, it is common decency. And after the way you acted yesterday, it is the least you can do.”

  “Oh, really, love?” It is obvious we are both still miffed at one another. There is that accent again.

  “Where are you from?”

  “You actually want to know something about me?” He feigns a shocked look as his dress shoes scuff against the cement floor.

  “You already know everything about me. It’s only fair.”

  “We are playing tit for tat then?” He intentionally says in his full accent, not attempting to hide it all.

  “Goddamn it, you are a Brit, aren’t you?” Breonna was right, again.

  “Have something against that?” he cocks a brow at me.

  “No, absolutely not. It just proves my sister was right, again. My family may have something to say about it, though. I may have been raised here, but they still prefer me to end up with good Celtic stock,” I mutter as my hands nervously tug at the hem of my floral tunic. Discussing the concept of ‘ending up’ with one person still leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

  “So, you only want to be fuck buddies but are considering introducing me to your family?” The mocking humor is evident in the creases around his eyes under the red glow.

  “I am a planner. It is completely natural to think ahead.”

  “You mean that you are too damn scrupulous.” He grins.

  “Are we going to clear up what happened yesterday or not?” I pointedly ignore him.

  “That might be a bit too adult of us.” That thick British accent seeps through the little room, rendering me stupid momentarily. I’ve never known another to be able to turn their accent on and off so fluidly. It’s difficult and I slip up all the time.