Chapter 10

10

Leah

D mitri isn’t working on Wednesday night. He’s sitting in the living room when I return from my final tutoring session.

“Hey,” he says, then frowns. “Is that your Hamlet face or your Poe face?”

“Neither. It’s my Fitzgerald face. If I have to talk about the symbolism in The Great Gatsby to one more privileged teenager, I’m going to lose my fucking mind. On top of that, it cost five hundred dollars to get that paint stuff off my car.”

“Have a seat.” He gestures to my usual spot on the couch. “I’ll get you a beer and make you an omelet.”

“You don’t have to?—”

He gives me a withering look. “I know I don’t have to.”

Properly chastised, I settle into my spot. “You’re a good guy, you know.”

“Nope.” The burner clicks as he starts it.

I don’t tell him how much I appreciate him, how much it means that he’s caring for me even though I must be a huge thorn in his side. He doesn’t seem to like it when I call out the nice things he does.

I lean over the back of the couch and watch him in the kitchen. He chops spinach and cheese, starts the eggs, and brings me a beer.

“Thanks.” I clink my bottle against his.

A curt nod. “What do you want to watch?”

“Something mindless.”

“Did Danica ever convince you to start Academy of Ghosts ?”

“Ugh, no. It’s constant teen drama, isn’t it?”

He grins. “Mindless. Just like you wanted.”

“Fine.” I navigate through his streaming service and pull up Season 1, Episode 1.

The opening theme song begins. It’s an atmospheric, late nineties rock ballad. Characters appear on the screen in the most dramatic poses possible.

“Dmitri, this is so cheesy.”

“The omelet or the show?” He’s holding out my plate.

“Both?” I say, taking the food. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He falls back into his spot on the couch as the pilot episode finally starts.

I eat my omelet and drink my beer. It shouldn’t be possible to feel this comfortable around Dmitri, not after the auction. And yet there’s no weirdness, no awkwardness. Nothing like there’d been when he and Danica helped me move out.

Maybe we can do this, go back to how things were.

I peek at him from the corner of my eye. He brings his beer bottle to his lips and takes a sip, his strong throat moving. How is a neck so sexy?

Nope. Stop looking at his neck.

And those strong hands. I remember what they looked like when he played with one of my nipples and Gage played with the other.

I shake my head, trying to clear away the incoming lust haze.

“Everything okay?” Dmitri asks.

“Uh, yeah.” Quick. Think of something that doesn’t have to do with his strong, capable fingers or the glorious cock hidden by his gray sweatpants. The show—I can talk about the show. “The headmistress is horrible, talking down to Katy like that.”

“Yeah, she’s a little too bad to be believable.” He takes a swig of his beer. “Cartoon villain. I guess that’s what makes it fun.”

“Oh, no, she’s totally believable.”

“People aren’t that bad,” Dmitri scoffs.

“My stepfather was.”

“What?” Dmitri sets down his drink and looks at me. “He didn’t say shit like that to you, did he?”

I shrug. I shouldn’t have said anything. Dmitri and Danica have nice parents and a big, supportive family. They’re loud and rambunctious sometimes, and always in each other’s business. But at the heart of all that noise, they truly love one another.

He turns sideways to look at me fully, the TV show forgotten. “Leah. Really?”

“Look, it’s fine, it was a long time ago.”

You’ll amount to nothing, you little slut. Wearing those tops that show your tits. Disgusting. Like a bitch in heat.

Dmitri can’t possibly know what’s going through my head right now. It would be mortifying if he did.

I don’t know what he sees on my face, but he doesn’t ask questions. He slides to the center of the couch and holds out his arm, inviting me to get close.

Maybe I’m an idiot, but I scoot over to accept the comfort. When I lean against his chest, I feel infinitely better.

Academy of Ghosts continues to play.

“This dude’s totally a vampire, isn’t he?” I point at the screen.

Dmitri laughs. “No spoilers.”

At the end of the episode, I sit up. Already I miss his warmth, his soapy, clean man scent.

“Another episode?” he asks, eyebrow cocked.

I want to say no because I resisted the siren call of this cultural icon for so long. “I don’t know, whatever you want.”

I secretly hope he wants to watch it.

“Well, I should call it an early night.” He picks up the remote and holds his finger over the power button.

“Wait,” I say.

He grins.

“Ugh, fine.” I fold my arms over my chest. “I admit it—AoG is pretty good.”

“It goes off the rails sometimes, but yeah, it isn’t bad.” Settling back against the couch, he skips the second episode’s cheesy intro. “Just wait until Season Three. That’s where it gets really good.”

“I am not going to watch three seasons of this!”

By the end of the second episode, I decide I am absolutely going to watch three seasons of this. In fact, I’m all in. My suspected vampire is actually a vampire-ghost hybrid of some kind, but he doesn’t even know it. My favorite heroine’s dorm room is haunted by a really hot guy from the Gold Rush era.

And as I watch, I can feel Dmitri looking over at me to see how I react to things, and that’s the most addictive part of it all.

It’s the third episode where things heat up onscreen. The ghost haunting the dorm room puts the moves on the heroine. He can’t touch her, but he directs her to touch herself. Because it’s television and it’s approved for ages fourteen and up, nothing is actually shown, nothing is explicit.

But I know what they’re doing, and so does the rest of the audience.

So does Dmitri.

It reminds me of what happened at Low Vice. Everything the ghost in the show says echoes in my mind, but in Gage’s voice. Touch yourself. No. Don’t finish. Wait. Listen to me, trust me, I’ll get you there .

The sexual tension on TV is nothing to the tension thickening the air in Dmitri’s living room.

I peek over at him. His attention is firmly fixed on the screen.

Maybe he isn’t thinking of that night like I am.

Maybe he isn’t remembering how I knelt before him and took him in my mouth.

I hope he isn’t aware that I would one hundred percent do that again if given the opportunity.

Before I can look back at the screen, he turns and sees me watching him.

“Leah.” His voice is low and quiet.

He feels the same, he has to feel the same. He wants to do it again, too.

“I should get some sleep,” he says.

My lungs stop working. “Oh. Yeah, I guess it’s getting late.”

Ten p.m. is not that late, especially not for Dmitri, who works until three a.m. most nights.

He holds up the remote. “Do you want to keep watching?”

“Nah. Turn it off. Thanks.”

When he stands up, he subtly adjusts the front of his sweatpants. He quickly picks up my empty plate and our beer bottles to take to the kitchen, blocking the front of him.

Dmitri was turned on, too. He just doesn’t want me to know it.

Gage

A giant male sub is getting railed by his tiny Domme.

Just another Thursday at Low Vice. I watch with vague interest while she sinks her long, red fingernails into his fleshy back. The peg she wears on a harness is large and appears rather punishing, yet her sub seems to glory in it.

“I don’t see you out of the office much.” Betty passes me a glass of water from the other side of the black marble bar top.

I accept the drink, frowning when I notice the tiny umbrella tucked against the side.

“Betty, what is this?”

“A frilly umbrella?” She blinks innocently.

“But why is it in my glass?”

“Because you need some fun and color in your life, Gage.”

“I’ve had enough fun and color to last a lifetime, and you know it.”

She purses her lips together in disapproval. “Maybe you’ll have fun tonight. What’s the point of owning a BDSM club if you never partake?”

“I was at the auction last week,” I remind her.

Besides, I am here to have fun. Dmitri’s working tonight. I’m waiting for him, but I won’t be telling Betty that. He usually comes to the bar and chats with Betty during his breaks.

I watch the power dynamic play out in Room One while I wait for him. The sub sobs with his need for release. His Domme edges him repeatedly, pegging him to punish and tempt before backing off again. The torture is exquisite, his need fierce.

The scene is missing something, however.

A small audience forms in front of the viewing window, blocking my vantage point. It’s fine, because I figured out what’s missing. It’s the same thing that’s always missing.

I need to be directing the scene.

Finally, Dmitri leaves his post. He walks along the perpendicular side of the bar, sees me, and stops short.

I wait. Surely he won’t allow himself to be frightened off by my mere presence.

Looking annoyed, he continues his progress before stopping a few feet from my place at the bar.

“Dmitri, hey.” Betty pours him a coffee without being asked.

“Hey,” he says back, but Betty has more customers waiting. She passes Dmitri his coffee and gets busy with other tasks.

“Do you need something, Mr. Jannik?” Dmitri bites out the words, his voice quiet, almost imperceptible beneath the club’s deep, moody music.

“Please.” I give him my most charming smile, the one that used to adorn teen magazines. “We’ve shared a woman. I think we should be on a first-name basis, don’t you?”

“Sure. Whatever.”

“You can stop with the sullen act. We both want the same thing.”

His gray eyes meet mine in a challenge.

“Yes,” I say.

He knows who I mean. He doesn’t have to ask.

Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a wisp of crumpled black satin and hand it to him.

He takes the fabric. Recognition narrows his eyes. “You sick fuck. What the hell is this?”

“You know what they are.”

“Why are you giving these to me?”

“To return them to their owner. She’s living with you now, isn’t she? Have you had any further…transactions?”

“That’s none of your goddamn business, motherfucker.” He gapes at the panties, clenching them in his big, bruising fist. “Why are you giving me her dirty underwear?”

“They’re clean. I had them washed. You can do with them what you will.”

Now that I’ve said my piece, there’s nothing more to do here. I get up, wave farewell to Betty, and walk out of the club.

Dmitri

Why do I want to punch my boss? All the time now, I want to hit him.

Before Leah’s auction, I never saw the guy. Now he’s fucking everywhere, butting into my business. Acting like a prick every chance he gets.

He plays hard. Too hard. I heard the stories, like most others. And I’m as surprised as anyone else that Margot and Betty trust him.

The asshole’s on a power trip, and he has an ego the size of Jupiter. Whatever he wants to do, he thinks he can do it.

I have a decision to make. Do I give Leah her underwear back, or toss them in the garbage?

Tossing them means I don’t have to think about it anymore. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want them after they made the rounds in the club.

Still undecided, I go home and let myself inside. I expected Leah to be asleep, but the television is on and she’s curled up on the couch. Her pajama bottoms have little ducks printed on them. Cute.

“How was work?” she asks.

“Fine.” I shrug out of my jacket and set it on the chair by the door.

She’s watching Academy of Ghosts . Figures. I created a monster.

Takes one to know one.

Her black panties are burning a hole in my jeans pocket.

She stretches, her arms spreading out and causing her T-shirt to rise up and show a sliver of her midriff.

The memory hits me of her belly chain dangling in that exact spot. Gage pulling apart the sides of that silky robe to show her off.

If I take these panties into my room, I’m jerking off into them, no doubt.

If I hand them over, we’re going to be reminded all over again—together—of what we did that night.

Maybe she’s as aroused as I am.

Maybe something could come of it.

A repeat performance, perhaps.

“Hey.” I clear my throat. “Gage wanted me to give you something.”