Page 46 of Mischief Mayhem

I swallowed down the shame that came with the thought that she still didn’t want anyone to know about this amazing thing we created, but I relegated that to the recesses of my heart.

It doesn’t mean anything. This doesn’t mean anything.

“Okay,” I agreed.

“Okay.” She downed the rest of her shot, grabbed her jacket, and pushed off the stool. “See you ladies tomorrow.” She gave her friends a goodbye wave before heading toward the door. Like the lost puppy I was, I followed closely behind.

I had a moment to make eye contact with a very curious Ru behind the bar before the door shut between us.

16

VERONA

By our agreed-upon definition, breaking his celibacy streak meant stimulating his cock until he came. But I wanted to be sure of the boundaries. Did he want me to fuck him? And if he did, was that something I wanted?

Yes.

Resoundingly and unequivocally, yes.

I would fuck him until the sun came up, and then I’d do whatever I could to keep him under me for the rest of the day. Then, I wondered how long I had wanted that. Had it been subconscious all this time, waiting to be uncovered? Or had the other night created an insatiable hunger in me? What did it matter anymore?

But telling the others still made me pause. What if we told them and this ended the way I thought it might? I could let Hollywood in, really let him in, and he could decide that I was only another notch on his belt, another lover in a long list of people that didn’t make the cut for the long term. Despite what had happened between us, despite having a connection that seemed deeper than anything else, I still couldn’t depend on this being real . . . that there was a future with him that lasted beyond the time it took for him to get bored with me and move on.

Hollywood had the potential to get closer than anyone ever had before. He could weasel his way inside my heart and I’d let myself love him. I’d let myself trust him, and he’d devastate me. Perhaps part of me wanted to throw caution to the wind, but that part who had lost her mother at nine, who had made out with him in a closet and watched him carry on with two other girls, who had a client try to kidnap her and abuse her, that part wanted to shove those mushy emotions way down inside. Keeping it to ourselves ensured a sense of distance that would lessen the backlash, if it came to that.

When we got to my house, Hollywood did a round to make sure it was secure before returning to me in the living room with a smirk that meant he was ready to play.

“Coast is clear,” he said, pulling his mouth into a big smile.

I tilted my chin up to meet his playful gaze with a stern one of my own.

“When you said you wanted to break your streak”—I stepped closer, running my fingers up his stomach and over his chest to his shoulders—“what exactly did you have in mind?”

“Hmm.” He grabbed my hips and jerked them forward so my lower stomach collided with his semi-erect dick. “What did you think I meant?”

“Do you want to fuck me?”

He raised his eyebrows, his grin growing bigger. “Is that on the table?”

“If you want.”

The words barely left my lips before he responded. “Yes, fuck yes. Please.”

“You’re so pretty when you beg.” I coasted my palm up the side of his face to cup his cheek before pushing on my toes so I could plant my lips on his. It was a soft, sweet kiss, nowhere near as commanding as what I had in store for him, but it conveyed my message loud and clear. I would have Hollywood because we both wanted it. I would break his streak because he knew I would treat him with respect and dignity, something his other partners had obviously neglected. He’d said as much the other night when I asked him why he wanted this in the first place.

“I’ll beg all night if you let me,” he muttered against my mouth.

Remembering the checklist he’d filled out, he was okay with fluid bonding, and I’d been on birth control for years. Deciding I very much wanted all of that, I stepped back and nodded to the hallway, gesturing toward the dungeon in the spare room. “Go on, then. Get ready. I want you naked and on your knees when I get there.”

Biting his bottom lip, he turned and rushed down the hallway, ripping his shirt over his head while he walked. I laughed and followed him, turning into my room so I could put on my domme costume and get into the right headspace. Sure, Verona the person liked to make grown men sink to their knees, but it took a special part of my personality to keep up the charade for the whole scene.

I took off my shirt and stared at myself in the mirror, running my gaze along the scar between my breasts. The glass jar hung over the purple flesh, reminding me of how connected Hollywood and I really were. That night in high school had started it, but after this bullet went through his torso and into mine, Hollywood had bled into me for an eternity. If power existed in blood magic, it had certainly wormed its way into my molecules, my very being.

“Do you believe in soulmates?” Ru had asked me.

A year ago, I might have told her no. But the pull I felt toward the man in the other room couldn’t be denied. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I was in love with him. I’d never been in love with anyone. I’d never trusted anyone enough for that, and part of me still couldn’t trust him completely. But what we had was more than friendship, more than a normal domme/sub relationship. Everything in my body compelled me toward him, and I feared it always would. I’d have to tell everyone some day, but I didn’t want their opinions ruining what we might have if they kept their noses out of my business.

Deciding I’d done enough thinking for one night, I shut off that part of my brain, put on my corset and fishnets, and yanked on a floor-length skirt where the slits went up to my hips on either side. I didn’t wear boots, opting instead to stay barefoot since I would probably climb him like a tree before the night was through.