Handling Cynthia: A BDSM Novella (Ache of Desire)
Book Preface
Cynthia Darlington sashayed through the hotel corridor on her stilettos, determination fueling her steps. The pale green carpet muted the sound, while tangerine drapes framed the picture windows and the darkness beyond. The faint scent of jasmine laced the air.
A sign in front of the ballroom read “Chestnut Grove High School Five-Year Reunion.” A small group chatted at the welcome table, dressed in suits and dresses and cheap fashion jewelry, but she didn’t want to get roped into the conversation. She’d had enough of false friends in high school, people smiling to her face while calling her a princess behind her back.
Without making eye contact, she scanned the table for her name tag and found it. Her gaze then wandered to the end of the alphabet. Trent Weber. So he wasn’t there yet.
If he didn’t show, her plans would be ruined.
No. If he didn’t show, she’d hunt him down. She hadn’t spent four hundred dollars for a little black dress at a boutique on Fifth Avenue so she could walk away from this party without getting the one thing she had come for. And she had come for Trent. In fact, she was looking forward to coming for him over and over tonight.
She tried to slip into the ballroom unnoticed by the women working registration, but she didn’t quite make it. “Cyn, glad you’re here!” said senior class president Denitra Washington. “Rick is inside.”
She arched her brows. “You mean Rick Ferguson?”
“Who else, girlfriend? And he looks good.”
Cyn wasn’t surprised. Looking good was what Rick did best.
“I couldn’t believe you two broke up after high school,” Denitra continued. “The head cheerleader and the captain of the football team…you seemed like the perfect couple.”
“We didn’t want to be tied down while we were at college.” Tied down. That was exactly what Cyn wanted to be. Only not with Rick. With a sly smile and a wave at her old friend, Cyn headed into the ballroom.
The bar was set up inside, to the right of the entrance. Good choice. A merlot would calm her nerves at being surrounded by people she barely knew—or knew just well enough to make the situation even more uncomfortable.
She stood waiting behind a guy whose name she couldn’t remember. Linebacker in a bespoke suit cut to fit his massive shoulders, with a diamond-studded date hanging on his arm. He pocketed the change the bartender gave him without leaving a tip, and sauntered off. Asshole.
Ordering her drink, she handed the bartender a twenty for the eight-dollar wine and told him to keep the change. His blue eyes shone, and a smile revealed his dimples.
She looked around the room, trying to recognize faces. The last time her high school friends had all gotten together had been at Trent’s parents’ house the weekend before she left for college. The night everything had changed.
She and Rick had been talking all summer about whether to see other people once she left for Columbia and him for Penn State. Ten minutes into the party, he’d said they should make a clean break. She didn’t disagree, but still, it was a kick in the gut to get dumped by her boyfriend of three years.
Even if she’d fallen out of love with him months earlier. Even if his friend Trent had been looking damn good to her.
Trent had spent the evening taking care of her. She cried on his shoulder, and he snuck a half-empty bottle of wine out of the house for them to finish on the back deck. She was the last one to leave that night. As they stood by her Mustang in his driveway, they said goodbye, but she couldn’t bring herself to get into the car.
The tension hung between them until he backed her against the door, pressing his mouth to hers. She stilled, too shocked to know how to react. His hands skimmed down her sides and she relaxed into the kiss. Her lips parted and his tongue swirled hers, tasting of zinfandel. His body pinned her to the Mustang. She felt his erection against her pelvis. He grabbed her wrists and held her palms flat against the car.
If Trent had asked, she would have felt too guilty to kiss him that way. Not so soon after her breakup with Rick. But she had no chance to think. He gave her body what it wanted from him, teeth nibbling lips, years of pent-up teenage desire surfacing.
All too soon, Trent stepped back. He shuffled his sneaker on the gravel driveway. “I’ll miss you. Good luck at Columbia.”
“Good luck at Delaware.”
And that was that.
If she’d been smart, she’d have called him the next day. Told him she never should have stayed with Rick so long. Now that she was free, she and Trent could be together. They owed it to themselves to find out where this thing might lead.
But out of misplaced loyalty to Rick, she didn’t see Trent again. She didn’t want to hurt Rick, jumping into bed with his best friend as soon as they broke up. So this thing with Trent had remained unresolved.
They fell out of touch during college. She was too embarrassed and confused by what had happened to contact him. Apparently, he felt the same. For the past five years, their only communication had been comments on each other’s Facebook status.
That would end tonight. Even if he didn’t show. Even if she had to drive to Delaware and find the little apartment where he was living while getting his PhD. She would fuck Trent Weber tonight.
***
Trent entered the ballroom and looked around. The zing in his heart at the prospect of seeing Cyn twisted into a knot in his stomach. That old longing burned inside, but she’d humiliated him the last time he saw her. He wouldn’t let that happen again.
She’d been nice enough to him on Facebook, but that was Cyn. She was nice to everyone, at least at a safe distance. Up close, she would be as aloof as she’d been after that kiss. She didn’t want him—she had made that clear enough five years ago. If she could be cold, he could, too.
He skimmed his hand over the tailored suit his parents had bought him for interviews his senior year of college. He couldn’t shake the memory of Cyn. Holding her against the car, immobile, and taking what he’d wanted—and she seemed to want it, too. Her body went soft at his touch, sweet moans escaping her throat. But when he broke the kiss, she smoothed her shirt and said good night, like the way her lips parted for him hadn’t been surrender. Like the way her leg wrapped around his hadn’t intertwined their souls.
Fuck that. Forget Cyn and her poetry. Tonight he’d show her he wasn’t that kid pining away for her anymore.
It didn’t take long to spot her. She’d been voted Best Dressed, and that hadn’t changed. The black dress she wore clung to every curve. Even though he had more control over his erections now than he had at fifteen, Cyn’s effect on him hadn’t changed.
He sucked in a breath. A couple of hours and the first test would be over. If he could get through tonight, the rest of the weekend would be easy. Be cordial, and don’t think about what it would feel like to be inside her.
“Trent Weber!” a voice called. Bernadette Holt crossed his path. Shit. He’d been a tool to her after they’d split. Time to man up. Couldn’t walk away like she didn’t exist. Instead, he glued on a smile and kissed her cheek.
“You look great,” he said. And she did. Auburn hair cut long, green eyes sparkling, even in the dim light. The red dress showed off her boobs—the first he’d had the pleasure of experiencing. “What are you up to these days?”
“Wharton Business School,” she said in the raspy voice he remembered from late-night phone conversations or hurried fucks in the back of his parents’ SUV. “I hear you’re working on a PhD in chemistry.”
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