Chapter 15

Fifteen

CALUM

She’s jumpy. Jane’s never boring and the games we play together hold my interest. Inspiring fear within her is a victory I never knew I needed until it happened. Now, it’s addictive. Lavender is gone, replaced by her true scent: one of fresh herbs or something new and hopeful. She smells like spring.

“Cal! I-I didn’t hear you come in.” Backing away from me slightly, she pretends to busy herself with the list of orders her pen is scratching out on a notepad.

Stopping a few feet away from her, my palms flex at my side. “Jane, I am so sorry.” I’m not, but let’s go with it. “I behaved abominably.” Dropping my head, I allow a slight tear to enter my eye. “Will you let me make it up to you?”

Green eyes widen as she swallows and breathes out, “There’s nothing to make up for.”

Quickly, I take two steps forward and snatch her hand within my two. Her instinct causes her to pull back, but she stops herself. “Yes, there is. I’m a brute. Callous and cruel. Please, please let me show you a good date with me. A real one.”

Staring at our hands, she nods slowly. “Okay, Cal.”

My face brightens. Ah, puppet. How I enjoy pulling your strings. It’s quite fun for me. “Tonight? Are you free for me tonight?”

“Yes.” Her voice holds no inflection, as if she’s a bad actor in a poorly written play. “What time?”

Brushing the hair back from her shoulder, I rub a thumb over her cheek, her eyes closing as I do. If I look hard enough, I believe I can see some of her neck hairs stand erect. Perhaps she’s blocking out her fear or reveling in it; it’s impossible to tell. “How about you take off now and enjoy the day? I’ll stay here and pick you up at three. Would you like that?”

Without a second’s hesitation, she gathers her purse and heads toward the glass door in a hurry. Before the chime calls out, I say, “Be watching for a package delivery for you. It’ll arrive around noon. I’ll see you soon.”

Calling up my right-hand, Nick, I have him set up the deliveries and events for our date. Closing the West Tech store on main early for the day, I prepare myself at home with a hot shower and even call my barber in for a fresh cut. My valet helps me with a new tuxedo purchased for the occasion, while the tailor waits on hand to make any necessary adjustments.

When I get to the airport a few hours later, the car I sent for Jane arrives a few moments after I do. The brilliant blue satin evening gown I had made for her hugs every curve she has like a warm embrace as she steps out of the black car. One shoulder is covered by the rich material while the other remains bare. The flare of the skirt edges out around her bare knees. Small diamond crusted droplets dazzle me as they dangle from her earlobes. The hairdresser I had arranged did a lovely job on the ringlets of red adorning Jane’s head.

I hate that the sight of her takes my breath away.

Even worse is when she spots me. The look she gives me causes that feeling, that Unnamed, to return and a smile breaks free across my face without any restraint. As I approach the goddess slowly, she stands firm, but her expression matches my own. Astonishment. She holds up her delicate arms for the large tulip bouquet as I lay it across her forearms.

Grasping her hand with one of mine, I drag my free fingers along her jaw, gazing into her emerald eyes. “I’ve seen a lot of things. Most of them not real. Some I can’t even place into words with how awe-inspiring they were. You’re more beautiful than my hallucinations.”

“Thank you, Cal. This dress, the jewels, the stylist, the flowers… Thank you for everything.”

Leaning in to press my lips to her cheek, my nose is met with the lavender scent again. And just like that, the pleasant Unnamed is gone.

We alight the airstairs, and I lead her down the long, narrow hall, past the row of staterooms to the back of the private plane. The first living area holds a U-shaped leather sofa, television, bar area, and gaming systems. Continuing the journey, I take us into the smaller, private lounge with reclining seats set around large tables.

“Who all is joining us?” She waves her unoccupied arm around the room, then places her flowers on a table.

“Just us.”

The skirt of her gown catches the light as she spins to meet me with a mauve-painted grin. “Cal? Are you showing off for me?”

Dancing up on my toes, I shove my hands in my pockets. “Yep.”

Lashes flutter at me as she flirts. “Come on! I’ve already seen your dick. The plane is just overkill.”

I lean in and place my mouth over her ear, gathering her close to me. “If you play your cards right, maybe you’ll see my dick on the plane.” Goosebumps erupt across her exposed collarbone when I breathe on her, then place my lips just beneath her earlobe. She shivers in my embrace. When I straighten up, I give her a curt smile, but her eyes appear unfocused, a dazed look clouding her expression.

Pulling her into one of the chairs next to me, I call for the server to help us with drinks. Once again, Jane doesn’t know what she wants, and I order for her.

After takeoff, the waiter returns with a tray of vegan hors d’oeuvres and our cocktails. Jane turns to me and asks, “This whole setup is lovely, but where are you taking me?” Her lipstick imprints on the rim of her barrel aged Negroni as she takes a sip, the orange twist contrasting with the blue of her dress.

“Varingo.”

Her mouth gapes open with surprise. “Oh, I’ve never been. I’ve never been outside Gnarled Pine, really. Not far away to a huge city like that anyway.”

Part of me believes her. The stupid part of me. Is that what that Unnamed is? Hope? Yearning for something sincere.

“The ballet there is world renowned. Pierre, one of my favorite chefs, has his restaurant there, too. After the show, he’ll cook for us in a private dining room. Monet, my personal chef, trained with him, but it’s not the same. So, when I visit the city, I like to dine at his place.”

“How often do you visit?”

The amaretto soothes the burn of bourbon as I take a sip of the sour. “Not very. It seems some disaster always befalls West Side as soon as I leave Gnarled Pine.”

She takes a bite of bruschetta, then wipes her mouth. “Don’t you have anyone to help you? Don’t you get to have a vacation?”

“Nick Jordan helps, and I can monitor things from my systems, but it’s best if I’m close by.” Placing my hand over hers on the table, I stroke the skin gently with my thumb. “Would you like to take a vacation?”

“Is this my boss asking me if I want a vacation, or my—” She stops herself. The unspoken question lingers between us now. It can’t be taken back.

“Boyfriend?” I ask. She’s trying to make it seem like this is a normal date between us. And how much do I wish that were true? I’ll pretend as much as she is.

Some shift occurs on her face, as if she’s just had an epiphany. “Cal?”

“Yeah?”

She swallows and lowers her voice, the sound almost drowned out by the white noise of the plane engines. “We’re alone, right?”

Pausing for at least ten seconds, I contemplate why she would ask. “If you’re asking if there’re cameras in here, there are for my safety. My tank is sitting up front with the crew but, otherwise, we are thousands of feet in the air now. Alone.”

Nodding softly, she says, “I understand you need to be with someone who… A woman who can give you an heir. Someone from a family, a clan. Someone with a last name attached to them. I’m an orphan. Or…from what I remember, I am.”

If there were such a thing as honesty, I’d swear she just used it on me, like a sharp weapon. It cuts deeper than any knife. Like a betrayal with the truth.

Leaning in, I place my lips close to hers. “So, then we play.” Not giving her the chance to respond, I gather up her siren’s song with my mouth, delving in with my tongue and mussing her hair with my hands running through the thick, rosy strands. Forcefully, she pulls back from me.

“Cal,” comes out as a whispered warning, or a moan. “What are you doing with me?” This time, she whispers.

“I’m spoiling you,” I pant out. “Let me spoil you tonight.”

“You want me to be your whore?” she asks with some trepidation.

With a snort, I smirk and answer, “Do you want to be?”

Glancing down, her eyes raise slowly back up to mine, holding some seriousness behind the green. “I don’t think you should choose me.” My jaw clenches shut as the venom of rage surges through my veins.

“And here I thought you chose me.” But, careful, puppet, because I hold your strings and you just haven’t figured that out yet. That part, I keep to myself.

“Sir, we’re landing in ten.” Over the loudspeaker, the pilot alerts me to our descent.

Both of us straighten in our seats, and I adjust myself in my trousers. Jane excuses herself to go to the restroom to freshen up, and when she returns, so does her plastic face.

Game on.

Over a somber and almost silent limousine ride over, we reach downtown Varingo as Jane stares up through the windows at the city’s vast skylines. Eyes filled with wonder, she steps out of the car and lets her head drop back to take in the grand hall in front of us.

Entering the Lyrical Opera House, Jane gasps at the majesty of the main foyer. Carved marble columns as thick as elephant legs reaching three stories high line either side with red-carpeted staircases between each, leading up to the mezzanine. Echoing every step we take, the glistening black and white tiled floors lead to the back of the room, where a concierge awaits, waving us toward the upstairs with a suited arm.

“There’s no one here,” Jane whispers into my shoulder.

Clutching her hand and placing it in the crook of my elbow, we follow our guide. “Nah, I thought we could use a private show from my box.”

Almost tripping on the runner, she thrusts her hand in front of her, but I instinctively catch her, helping her upright. “Y-you bought the show?”

Pressing my lips onto the top of her head, I say, “And the company.”

“For tonight?” Her gasp echoes in the empty hall.

“For you.” Smiling down at her, I say, “Hope you like your gift.”

Once we reach the second level, a waitress hands us some champagne, which we down before heading inside the theater. Settling inside my box, Jane’s head swivels around, taking in the seats, the curtains, the stage, everything. The concierge taps me on the shoulder, and I give the nod that we’re ready as the orchestra strikes its first dramatic chord.

Jane’s jaw drops as she leans forward in her seat.

Over the next two hours, I watch the music on her face instead of the dance below us. Basking in that Unnamed, observing the realness in her reactions, was the best vacation I could have asked for. It’s a feeling I never want to part from.

“You didn’t see the show!” she says as the candelabras light up the booth when the final curtain draws.

"I saw a much more entertaining one,” I say, dragging a finger across her cheek.

Exiting the Opera House, the wind whips her hair around and she grabs her arms with her hands, rubbing them. Shirking off my coat, I place it around her exposed freckled shoulders, and her lashes blink bashfully as she smiles up at me, tugging the fabric tighter around her waist. Throwing my arm around her, I lead us to the limousine waiting to escort us to the restaurant.

“You’ve thought of everything, Cal,” she says as she slides onto the cushioned seat inside.

“I told you, I’m sorry. This is my way of trying to make things up to you.”

Without me even doing a thing, she smooths her palm across my thigh and threads her cold fingers through mine and squeezes. Warming her hand between mine, I bring them up to my mouth and kiss each tip. Even in the darkness, her cheeks flush bright with color.

In a few short blocks, the car pulls over, and I help my date out, walking down a darkened brick alley side by side. Jane stiffens underneath my tuxedo jacket, but I continue to guide her with a hand on her back. Halfway down is a black wooden door, and once I knock, it opens immediately, the waiter nodding at me before leading us to a private dining room near the kitchen.

Blue velvet walls and silver brocade accents outfit the place, just for me. A cushioned U-shaped booth surrounds a whitewashed table in an alcove, the table set for two with a single globe candle providing a romantic glow.

“Cal! This is all just too much.” Pulling my jacket off her shoulders, I hand it to the waiter, who hangs it on a hook near the door.

“Pierre has prepared the menu you requested, sir. I’ll have your wine out shortly.”

“Thank you, Matt.” Unnoticeably, I slip him a few thousand dollars. He smiles at me with his deep-set brown eyes, then slides out of the side door toward the staff area.

“Don’t worry, I’ll have the chef prepare something you would actually enjoy,” I tell her, taking a sip of my water with a small smile.

“What would I actually enjoy?”

“You seem like a steak and potatoes kinda gal to me. Are you not?”

Her smile falters as she stares at the table. “I really don’t know what kind of ‘gal’ I am.” Gathering herself, she peeks up at me. “But I’m pretty sure I like steak.”

Once our first course arrives, we settle into discussing Skee-ball strategies in a comically heated debate. By the main (mine vegan, hers a perfectly seared filet), we’ve moved on to discuss video games and the ballet. The topics covered are easy, Jane freely talking with opinions so sure, I want to revel in each one. Then combat it, just so she will get that fire in her eyes that comes about when she’s ready to explode.

Observing her eat is some type of slow torture and a test of my ultimate self-control. Each time she puts her fork in her mouth, her lips wrapping around the metal tines, I get a tinge of envy. Who gets jealous of a fork?

My dick, that’s who.

Filling with blood and lust, it aches as it stretches against my trousers. Longing to be coddled, I attempt to focus on the ice water left in my glass, the condensation on my fingers cooling me down when I grip the glass. Slightly.

And for the last part of the date, I know how to get her to relax fully. Completely under me.

Just after the final course, she says, “That was the most amazing meal I’ve ever had.”

“Mmm, it was okay, but I have a feeling I could get something better.”

The tip of her tongue dips to her lip to gather up some crème brûlée that escaped, and all I can think about is coating her mouth with a different sticky substance. “No way. Where? In Paris? Venice?”

With a smirk, I say, “No, right here.” Wrapping my hands around her waist, I sit her on the table in front of me, her long gown snagging on my arm.

“Cal!” she squeals, glancing behind her toward the kitchen door.

“Settle and let me eat my dessert.” Sliding the satin up her legs with my palms, her lacy nude thigh-high stockings and garter belt are exposed. “Lift up,” I say, hooking a finger into the waistband of her thong, then tug it down as her hips rise for me.

“What if someone sees us?”

I shrug as I tuck her panties in my pocket for later. Suckling one thigh with my lips, she leans back on her elbows, her inhale audibly shaky. Every muscle beneath my kiss quivers when I slowly ease my way up to her core with the utmost care. Gentle, calculated. Her fingers spread on either side of my head, then scrunch my hair, the nails scratching my skin and causing sparks of electricity to shoot down my spine all the way to my raging erection.

As I reach her center, I sit back slightly to look at it. Really look. It’s perfect. Pussy glistening with the only liquid that will quench my thirst. Thick and full labia, clit poking out and sitting like a crown on top, pink and pretty.

“Cal…please.” I must have taken too long studying her in a trance, but I snap out of it with an exhale, my hot breath causing every tiny body hair on her skin to stand up. She’s bare, waxed, so there’s no hint of what true color she is, and some part of me is disappointed. While gazing into her dazzled emerald eyes, I lean forward and place the tip of my tongue at the apex. She quickly stops her rising scream by biting her bottom lip while I moan into her as the first hint of her flavor touches my lips.

How many nights had I questioned exactly how she would taste? It’s not lavender, but more like the spring she smelled of when I caught a sense of who she was. Musky, but clean. A slight bit sour, but also rich and full. And hidden beneath is a hint of sweetness. All I know is I need more.

Pushing farther into her, she whimpers as I flick on her clit repeatedly, then suction it inside my mouth, licking up any falling juices for my own satisfaction. “Fuck, you taste like I’d never need to eat again. If I can just—If I can just snack on this, I’ll be satisfied.” An open-mouthed moan replies as I suck harder, dancing my tongue in circles around and around, then snake one finger toward her entrance.

Running it through her wet and puffy lips, I plunge my finger inside as her hips buck up against my face, thighs collapsing around my head. “Ride me, puppet.” The name slips out, humming against her skin, but I’m just as heated as she is, delirious with desire. Grinding her pussy against my nose, I add a second finger to her hole, fucking her with my fingers until they slosh with the sounds of her sensuality.

“Fuck me. Ride my face. Make me a mess. Come all over me. I want everything from you.” And I do. I’ll take it all. Every writhe of her hips against my face becomes more of my own indulgence.

As her loud wails of pleasure heighten, she throws her head forward to capture my eyes with hers. Applying full pressure with my kiss, my fingers claw toward her center, craving to edge closer to her soul as she collapses around me.

And then I see it.

Tears well up in her eyes, and there it is. For a moment on her face lies sincerity. Her unraveling is fully authentic. It was there that night in the funhouse, but mixed with fear and terror. Now, she’s released herself from what was holding her back and I see her. Not a puppet. Not Jane…

Veracity.

And I want to fuck her, be inside her, mix myself with that realness and have it envelop me. Fill me whole. I want her.

But as soon as her pussy stops quivering around my hand, the fear and feigning returns. She’s gone as quickly as she came. Scooting back on the table, she pushes her dress down in a hurry. Through a fake laugh, she says, “Well, now, let me take care of you.”

But I don’t want it anymore.

“Nah, this was about you tonight,” I say, gathering all her leftover arousal on my face. Licking my fingers clean one by one, I try to savor that image in my mind of the moment I met that Unnamed. Whoever she was is the woman I want, the one I need. The one I’ve always searched for.

This one bores me.