No Limits: A Dark Romance Page 10

  There are tears in her eyes, tears of anger, frustration and fear. Her hand flashes out, slapping me across my cheek, left then right. “You're a bastard, Rafe.”

  “I know that,” I say softly, not angry at her at all. I can barely feel the pain from the slaps anyway, although she can throw hands pretty well. “But I'm not a total bastard.”

  “What do you mean?” Shawnie asks.

  “I'll be here for you, just like I've tried to be the past few months. I'm not going to cut and run.” Her tears start to slide down her cheeks, but she wipes them away quickly, sniffing them back. Still, she's lost and scared, and when she reaches out, I take her hand. “I promise you, I won't abandon you.”

  I pull her close and give her a hug, not passionate but just supportive. “I'm scared, Rafe.”

  “I know you are, Shawnie. I know. I'm scared too.”

  “You?” she asks, not lifting her head from my chest. “Why would you be scared?”

  “When you're ready, I'll tell you everything. Then you'll understand.”

  Shawnie stays in my arms for a few more minutes, and it's the best moment of the year for me. “I'll hold you to that. But I think I should go home.”

  “Want a ride?” I ask, and Shawnie turns, shaking her head. “You know, to get home safely?”

  “I’ll be fine. Besides, it’ll give me time to think. I'll see you tomorrow, Rafe.”

  Chapter 13

  The Counselor

  You look upset. I figured you were after you called my office this morning asking if I could fit you into my schedule. It's been a long time since you called for one of these.

  Yeah, thanks for that. I know Wednesdays aren't our normal day, but I just had to talk about this. I feel . . . I'm more confused than I've been in a long time.

  Hmmm.

  Hmmm? You went to school for how many years in order to say 'Hmmm?'

  Okay then. Tell me what's on your mind, Shawnie.

  Well, first off, I had sex with Rafe Monday night. And now I kinda feel like shit about it.

  With Rafe? You normally do feel bad after having sex. But this is the first time that I've heard you describe it as ‘having sex’. You’re usually a bit more blunt and uncaring about it.

  Your point?

  So, what happened to make you feel bad? What happened that led up to you and Rafe having sex?

  Like I told you, he challenged me, and I was a good girl all weekend. Monday afternoon in the lab, I was practically humming. I felt both so good and so horny at the same time. We went out for dinner before going back to his place.

  So how was it? I mean, was it different?

  Oh my God, I haven't come that hard without being tied up and kinked out before. And yesterday morning, I was all good and feeling gushy on the inside . . .

  Gushy? Is that an engineering word?

  Very funny. Anyway, my body felt great and content. Then I got a call from The Club.

  Is that normal?

  It’s not normal at all.

  An out of the ordinary call then. About what?

  A special offer, a so-called valuable member who wanted a private meeting, and maybe an offer to become his or her sugar baby. It sickens and disgusts me that I was tempted.

  You say tempted. So that means you declined?

  I did. Then Mr. Robinson called me by my real name and said good luck in class before he hung up. He even knew my class schedule. That scared me to death. If what I do on the weekends bleeds into my schoolwork, I don’t know what I’ll do. I just know that it could crush me completely.

  What do you know about The Club?

  You mean besides the anonymous sex? There's quite a few famous people, community leaders and stuff like that who wouldn't want their identities known. You can’t always hide your face. It’s just one of those places where you don’t talk about the details outside the doors. There are armed doormen who make people who don’t respect the anonymity rule disappear. At least that’s the rumor. I don’t know if that’s just to scare people.

  I see. Continue, please. What took you from there to having a problem with Rafe?

  When I was in class, I started thinking about my mom.

  Tell me about that. We haven’t gotten much into that. You don't talk much about that part of your past.

  She’s a secretary. She busted her ass for years, trying to take care of her family. And more than a few times, she came home late at night, a look of desperate shame on her face. I didn't know why at the time. I was so proud of her for taking care of us. I mean, both of my parents did their best, but my father has a conviction in his history and is trapped in a dead-end, low-paying job, like a lot of ex-cons. A few times, she'd come home, that look of shame on her face, and I didn't know why. All I knew was that after those days, she and my father would argue more, that there'd be tension in the house. It wasn't until I was in fifth grade that I figured out what was happening. It was all on the down low, but I figured it out. She was choiceless. Her boss kept her on though, even after I think they stopped, and every year, she'd get a nice Christmas bonus. That bonus was sometimes the difference between having presents or not come Christmas morning, I think.

  So you see yourself being like your mother?

  I've never judged her for what she felt she had to do, and I know it's done by now. She still got her bonuses after, probably for keeping her mouth shut instead of her legs open. Her boss was from one of those families where screwing around with someone like my mother would cause a lot of scandal.

  I see. And I see how it led to your thinking about Rafe. So then what happened?

  I went into the lab that afternoon, and I tried to do my work, but I couldn't focus. I just kept seeing my mama, and I realized that like her, I fucked my boss. No matter what decision I make, sugar baby or engineer, I'm fucking my boss. It made me feel so worthless. I couldn't take it, so I went to the only private place I could find, the simulator. Rafe came in, and I ended up telling him everything.

  How did he react?

  He told me he knew about it. He's known for months. How the fuck could he do that?

  Hold on here. Shawnie, I don't know if you were doing it intentionally, but it's not that hard to find the story about Chris Lake. He was from a semi-respected family, at least in that community. The tabloids love stuff like this.

  I . . . I didn't know. I started to lose control, and I tried to seduce Rafe there in the simulator, and he turned me down. I got pissed and walked out, and in the hallway . . . I basically asked him if he wanted to be my boyfriend or my fuck buddy.

  What did he say?

  He didn't come right out and say it, but I think he wants to be my boyfriend. But he said that I have to work on fixing myself.

  That’s quite a challenge. So how do you see Rafe? As your boss? As a romantic interest? As just a man?

  I guess he's becoming a mix of things to me. I mean, I totally respect his genius when it comes to work. But beyond that, I feel like there’s a chance there could be more.

  So what's the problem?

  Because I'm worried that I can't trust him. He's known about Chris Lake for months and he didn't say anything until after I broke down. What if I'd never told him? Would he have just gone on doing what we were doing . . . whatever it is?

  That's a question you're going to have to answer for yourself. Shawnie, do you have anyone besides me that you can call to talk to? I’m happy to, but a friend would be helpful too.

  Abby, but I’ve always tried to hide it from her. I think she knows something is up and she just hasn’t pressed me on it. She mentioned something about it last time we talked. By the way, she named her baby Shawn. I spent twenty minutes crying when I found out. It felt so awesome.

  Sounds like you have something else to push you on the path to recovery, a namesake. Still, this call from Mr. Robinson worries me.

  It worries me too. If the security at The Club is making people disappear, there’s only one man who they would take those orders from.
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br />   Chapter 14

  Shawnie

  Leaving the counselor's office, I feel better about one thing. It's okay to be confused, to feel torn. And she's right, I've got plenty of worries.

  The problem is, on one hand, I know that I can't trust Mr. Robinson. I heard the threat in his voice, even if I don't know why he's feeling the need to threaten me. He wants the demon side of me in control, he wants me to feel worthless and in The Club. And he’s dangerous, I know that. It’s part of the reason the demon likes me to listen to him so much. Mr. Robinson isn’t looking out for me. He’s looking out for himself.

  But that’s not what I really want, and with Rafe, while he was blunt, it’s what I needed to hear. It’s like he knows just how to challenge me, just how rough and tough to be with me.

  But can I trust him? Is charisma, a clearly genius IQ, the world's greatest body, and a cock that should be enshrined in the Hall of Fame more than the constant secret that I feel is at the center of his life? There's something he's hiding from me. He's told me as much. And it's not just that he has a play room. It’s obviously more than that.

  Of course, I wasn’t exactly up front myself. But maybe it’s time for me to see what I can dig up on Rafe Meyers if he’s not going to give me any answers.

  I head to the library, where I grab a study cubicle and pull out my laptop.

  “Okay, Rafe Meyers, I did a little bit on you before. Let's find out some more,” I say to myself, starting my search.

  I quickly find that I'm in for more of a challenge than I thought. Just searching his name turns up nothing more than what I’ve already seen. There aren’t a lot of people named Rafe Meyers, but there are still enough that finding out about my Rafe Meyers is like searching for one particular piece of yellow sand at the beach.

  For the next three hours I dig, reading and scrolling through what I can, when finally, I find something in someone’s Facebook comment about him.

  Rafe Meyers, nicknamed “Suicide,” also has an earlier nickname of “The Nietzschean.” Most people probably wouldn’t know where that’s from, but I’ve always loved science fiction, and the show Andromeda was one of my favorites, so for me, it geeks me out a little bit. Probably because I had an early teen crush on Keith Hamilton Cobb.

  According to what I’m seeing, my Rafe Meyers just popped out of nowhere fully grown into a lab at Cal Tech, skipping everything from birth through his Bachelor's degree. I can't even figure out where the hell he was born.

  I chew on my lip, a bad habit of mine when I'm frustrated. It feels like I'm swirling, going down the rabbit hole and chasing a man who doesn't really exist when something catches my eye, a sports report from the Pasadena Local Underground. “Local Wunderkind Loses Match For North American Title.”

  I click, shocked when I see a picture of Rafe in boxing gloves, shorts, and a mouthpiece in the corner of a boxing ring. I read, my chin slowly dropping to my chest as I read. “Rafe Meyers has, in his first year at Cal Tech, become something of a campus sensation. In addition to academic achievements, it was only last month that it came out that the still yet to turn eighteen-year-old has been spending his weekends with, until now, perfect results in professional kickboxing . . .”

  I keep reading the one-page article, which appeared in a small unknown newspaper, about how Rafe went down to Mexico and fought twenty fights in a year, winning all but one of them by knockout in the first round before taking on the North American champion. In his first fight north of the Mexican border, on an Indian reservation in Arizona, he lost in the sixth round via knockout.

  After that, I can't find anything involving Rafe Meyers and kickboxing. I shut down my computer, more questions than when I even started, and head over to the lab. Maybe I just need to confront the man directly.

  “Rafe?” I ask, feeling a hint of yesterday's anger and fear as well as my confusion tearing me apart. We're alone in the lab, it's late, and everyone else has either gone home or didn't come in today.

  “What do you need, Shawnie?” he asks. He's been slightly apart from me today, giving me space while going about his own work. “You did good work today, by the way. Nice work on the fuel pump system analysis.”

  “Thanks. But I wanted to ask 'The Nietzschean' about something,” I say, handing him my phone. I'd pulled up the article on his kickboxing, and he lifts an eyebrow as he reads the article. “What’s all this?”

  “It’s one article,” Rafe says, handing my phone back to me. He's not happy about this, I can tell, and his mouth thins as he grows tense. “Shawnie, we both have secrets.”

  “I know that!” I yell, slamming my hands on the table. “But you don’t know what I’m going through!”

  “You have no idea what you're talking about,” Rafe says, getting off his stool and towering over me. “Every day, every single day, I'm taking a risk. You don't know what I’ve been through.”

  “No shit!” I yell again. “You just pop out of the fucking smoke one day at Cal Tech, and since then, you've been blazing a trail that leaves the whole fucking world blinking stupidly in your wake, and all I know is that I'm feeling like I'm caught between two dangerous situations, you and The Club, and I'm—”

  Rafe reaches out, pulling me to him and crushing my lips in a soul searing kiss, his hands not letting me go as I start to fight him. I push back, but his strength is like steel, undeniable, and inside me, I know that it doesn't matter how hard I fight him. He's going to win. Instead, I relent, letting my fears out into a deep kiss that leaves us both breathless when we part, and I stare into his eyes.

  “Does that feel dangerous?” Rafe asks, his blue eyes dark with desire.

  “Yes,” I admit, reaching down and cupping his cock. “But I still want it.”

  “I want it too. I told you twice now . . . you're mine.”

  Twice? What? I blink, a few more pieces falling into place. The words, the voice, the amazing body . . . “Club Paradise. You were the masked man.”

  Rafe nods, stroking my face. “It was either that or make a scene and drag you out of there. I wasn't going to let anyone touch you. You're mine.”

  “Then take what's yours,” I challenge, leaping into his arms. We tumble to the floor of the lab, pulling and tearing at each other's clothes until we're both topless, Rafe's lips fastened around both my nipples as he pushes them together, shockwaves rolling through my body at how good it feels. “Rafe . . . oh my God, sir . . .”

  “You know it drives me wild when you call me that,” he whispers, and I nod, fumbling with his pants to free his cock. It springs free, hard and throbbing, and I wrap my hand around it, pumping him carefully. “And that too.”

  “I know,” I moan as he pulls back, staring at me with still a little bit of anger in his eyes. “Sir?”

  “You shouldn’t have gone poking around. I told you that I'd tell you everything in time,” he chastises me, but his voice isn't angry. “You’re going to need to be punished.”

  His words make the heat in my pussy rise a few degrees, and I can't help but smile. “Then punish me.”

  He adjusts himself, rolling away from me and lying on his back, his cock pointing straight in the air as he looks at me. “On your knees.”

  The commanding tones in his voice send a jolt of energy up my spine, and I'm on my knees, straddling his knees as his massive cock stands in front of me hard and proud. He takes his thumb and sticks it in my mouth, and I suck it just like I would his cock. I can see him start to ooze precum, and I fight the urge to gobble it up. I’m waiting for him to give me permission.

  He gives me an approving smile and nods. I waste no time, licking the tip of his shaft like a lollipop, tracing the edge of his flared head with the point of my tongue. Rafe gasps when I lick the slit at the top.

  Rafe groans as I swallow him, running my lips down the immense shaft until he's buried in the back of my throat, pressing against my gag reflex. I’m about to try to go further when Rafe shakes his head. So I lift off, letting the head of his cock pop
out with an audible smacking sound. “You do that, and I'm going to come down your throat,” Rafe warns me. “And I don't want that.”

  “What do you want, sir?” I ask, smiling when he pulls me up and runs his hands inside the stretch pants I wore today, massaging my ass roughly. “You want back there?”

  “Mmm, next time,” Rafe says, kissing me deeply again and rolling me onto my back. “I want you to look into my eyes. I want you to know that you’re mine.”

  I help him get my pants and panties off, spreading my legs until I'm nearly in the splits, Rafe taking me in with his eyes and growling.

  Rafe pushes my knees back and lines his cock up with my aching, dripping pussy. I get to watch as he sinks into me, both of us moaning as I'm stretched wide, my pussy clinging to him even as he sinks deeper and deeper until I've taken all of him, our hips pressed together in an ultimate stroke. “This is where I belong.”

  I gasp, reaching up to pull him down into another soul searing kiss. Rafe pins me to the floor, the utility carpet digging into my skin and prickling a little, but I love it. He kisses me hard as his hips lift and he thrusts again, both of us gasping at the feeling. He sits back, staring deep into my eyes.

  He starts fucking me earnestly, different from either of the times we've fucked before. Instead of hammering me relentlessly, overwhelming me with his power and totally dominating me, he mixes up his strokes, short wiggles that rub deep against my g-spot and clit mixed with long, slow strokes that make my fingers curl around his arms, digging in as he almost erotically tortures me, making me want to call out for more. “Not this time, Shawnie. I'm in control.”

  “Yes sir . . .” I moan, wrapping my legs around him to rest my heels on his hips as he brings me right to the edge of coming. He slows down, letting me recover slightly, and switches up to long, powerful strokes that shake my body from ass to shoulders, my breasts shaking wildly because he's so strong. “Fuck! Yes!”