Mile High

My eyes narrowed on him. “Don’t bring things up that you aren’t willing to talk about, then.”

His brows flew straight up at that. “Is that a rule now? So you’re saying that if you bring up a subject, you have to answer my questions about it, as well? If you’ll agree to reciprocate, I’ll accept those terms.”

I bit my lip, wondering how this was going to backfire on me. I knew it would, eventually. How badly did I want to know about his exhibitionist tendencies?

Badly. “Fine. Tell me.”

He pursed that pretty mouth. “Tell you what, exactly? About having sex in front of other people?”

I nodded.

“Is it something you’re interested in doing, or are you merely curious?”

My eyes widened in dawning horror. Had he thought I would want to do that in front of my co-workers, if I was thinking at all clearly? The thought was abhorrent.

“Merely curious,” I said with a blush. “About you more than the practice. I want to know what you did in front of other people, and with whom.”

He spread his hands. “I’ve done it several times. There are…events for people like us. BDSM demonstrations. I’ve dominated, and spanked, and fucked several women at things like that. In front of a few people or even crowds. I never had a problem with it, though it was more a novelty than one of my actual preferences. And I fucked a few women at some frat houses in college in front of crowds, a few times on a dare, if I recall. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said I used to be a real slut. I’ve been more circumspect in recent years, but only in comparison to my past exploits, really. Anything else you want to know about it?” His voice was tight with agitation by the end of his explanation, and his question was downright angry.

I felt sick to my stomach suddenly, the last vestiges of arousal leaving me completely. “And you’d have no problem doing that to me, in front of a crowd?”

His jaw clenched hard, and he turned his head away. He was silent for so long that I didn’t think he was going to answer, though the answer was important to me.

“I have a huge problem with it,” he said finally. “That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t do it. Even knowing how much I would have regretted it after, I still had a hard time stopping myself. I felt like you wanted me to, and that made it so hard to stop. I’m starting to see that that’s not what you wanted. Still, I would have been furious with us both if it had gone that far.”

“Why furious? You said yourself you’ve done it several times.”

He gave me an almost malevolent glare. “Because you’re mine. I don’t want other people to see you like that. I don’t want to share you like that. When I’ve done it before, it’s been with women who were…dispensable. They were all dispensable, Bianca. I’m not proud of that fact, but it is the truth.

Even the few subs who I’ve had under contract longterm were dispensable, in a way. I never shared them, but I certainly didn’t care if anyone saw me fucking them.”

I licked my lips. “You had subs under contract? Longterm?” I asked, feeling the sickness growing.

He sighed. “I did bring it up, didn’t I? Yes, I’ve had a few subs under contract. They were amenable, though only two were compatible for what could be considered longterm. It can be a necessary arrangement, when you have a lot of money and your sexual proclivities are…unusual. I wanted no misunderstandings, and certainly none of them were strangers to the scene.”

“Is that something you would try to do to me? The contract thing?” I asked him, my voice smaller than I preferred.

He gave me a baffled, wild look.

I had a horrible thought. I hadn’t wanted the arrangement, would certainly have turned it down, but what occurred to me next was even more appalling.

“Oh,” I said, the sick knot in my stomach growing by the moment. “That’s a more longterm arrangement than what you had in mind for me, I take it.” I made my voice and face empty of emotion as I spoke, wanting to take the blow with some grace. “You would obviously want someone more experienced with the things you like, to fill a role like that. Well, that’s for the best. I couldn’t make a commitment like that, anyways.”

His head dropped forward, his hair covering his face. I saw his fists clenching and unclenching.

He was silent for a time. His voice was low but harsh with intensity when he spoke. “That is not the contract that I had in mind for you. But which is it, Bianca? Are we talking about our relationship, or am I not allowed? Because you keep saying the most infuriating things, and I’m finding it increasingly difficult to bite my tongue. So are we talking about our relationship tonight, or not? I’ve wanted to explain myself to you for a long time, but you always run away before I can even begin.”

I swallowed. I suddenly wanted to know, quite desperately, what he would say if I encouraged this conversation. But I lost my nerve, feeling terrified enough of what he might say to postpone it for another day.

“Not tonight,” I said finally.

A chilly silence filled the car after that. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t touch. I withdrew into my own thoughts, for a time. We stayed that way until we pulled into the parking lot of Las Vegas’s private airport. It was close to the main airport, but I’d never actually been to it.

“What are we doing?” I asked James.

He didn’t look up. “You said I could do anything with you that I wanted. I am.”

I gave him an exasperated look that he didn’t see. “I don’t have anything with me. I haven’t even packed a bag. And it’s late.”

“I’ve taken care of it.”

“It will be morning by the time we get anywhere. I can’t wear this outfit anywhere but a night club.”

“I know. I said I’ve taken care of it.”

We had stopped by then, and Clark was opening the door scant seconds later. James got out in a flash, pulling me out as soon as I got within his reach. He gripped my elbow firmly, guiding me into the small terminal.

“We should be able to depart immediately,” he said brusquely.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“No. Not to a beach. I’ll tell you that much.”

I nearly laughed. “What is your issue with beaches? Everyone loves the beach.” I looked at him, smiling to draw him out of his mood.

His face darkened. “I’m aware,” he said, his tone scathing. The beach was a topic off-limits, I noted. I tucked away that little piece of information.

“I need a change of clothes,” I complained.

“I’m aware,” he repeated.

“You’re the moodiest person I’ve ever met,” I told him, my own tone dark now.

He squeezed my arm, hard. “You make me crazy. If you would give me some clue what you were thinking or feeling, if you even feel anything for me, I think I could handle our situation with a little less volatility.”

His words struck me silent, and we walked like that through the smaller airport. We went through all of the motions, my mind reeling.

He wanted to know if I felt anything for him? It was a strange notion to me, one I couldn’t credit. He’s worried about getting me to care for him? I mused.

I dismissed the thought after mulling it over. I’d had this type of interaction with men before. It wasn’t that he cared. It was that I came across just aloof enough that it made me a challenge. James couldn’t have felt challenged to gain the affection of many women. One night with him, and most probably professed undying love. Because, frankly, there was so much to l ove. But I wouldn’t humor him, not at the cost of what little pride I intended to retain at the end of our affair.

CHAPTER NINE

We were boarding his jet in record time. I’d never been on a private jet before, and his was impressive.

I studied the beautifully designed interior, keeping my features schooled into passivity as the flight attendant greeted us warmly.

He led me directly to a seat, buckling me in without a word, his mouth tight. We hadn’t spoken since his odd statement, and I didn’t know what to say.

He sat beside me in an oversized leather chair, buckling himself in. The seats made my airline’s first class seats look tiny in comparison.

“The decor is lovely. Your decorators, as always, have exquisite taste,” I told him. The plane’s interior was done up in a muted red color with deep brown accents. I wouldn’t have even known it was a plane, if I’d only seen the interior.

“Well, thank you. I decorate most of it myself,” he told me, flushing a little.

I was surprised. “That’s…impressive.”

He shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “I own hotels. It always made sense to me, that I should have a hand in all of it, so I’ve been making many of the decorating decisions since I was a teenager. It goes without saying that I choose my own decor on my private properties. I like things a particular way.”

I flushed a little at that. He was a control freak, was what he should have said. Strangely, that thought only ever turned me on. “Do you enjoy interior design? Or is it merely a necessary evil for you?”

He looked thoughtful. “I enjoy it. If I’m honest, I even enjoy shopping. Do you think less of me now?”

I gave him a tiny, teasing smile. “Hardly. I far prefer these revelations to ones about you being an exhibitionist.”

He had begun to smile, and just like that, it died. He grew broodingly silent again as the plane was prepped and we took off.

“Do you think you’ll be able to accept my past? Or is it all just too sordid for you?” he finally asked quietly. His head was tilted back as he rested in his chair.

I blinked. “I suppose, as long as it is actually in the past, I could cope with it, if you’re always honest with me.”

He nodded, looking relieved, but oddly sad. “I will be. I have been. I’ve gone out of my way to tell you even the things I don’t want to, because you asked it of me. You just need to give me some time to prove it to you. To gain your trust.”

I thought about that as he went silent again.

The flight attendant was attentive, asking us if we needed anything mere seconds after we reached ten thousand feet.

She was beautiful, I noticed. Her hair was long and black, hanging straight down her back and parted down the middle, her features stunning. She had a slim but shapely figure. Her uniform was a plain black skirt with a fitted, almost too tight white dress shirt tucked in. She wore four inch red stilettos that she worked like a pro. I couldn’t have walked in those shoes to save my life.

I remembered James’s offer to hire me as his personal flight attendant. Was that how she had gotten the job? Did I want to know? The masochistic side of me certainly did.

“Have you slept with Helene?” I asked James, my tone very nearly idle.

He studied me. He hesitated, and I had my answer.

I looked out the window.

“Once, when she first hired on,” he said slowly. “She offered rather blatantly, and I accepted. We’ve been nothing but professional in the years since. Are you upset?”