Personal Geography Read Online Free PDF Page B

made the IT department at HUD, against policy, change her email address to just [email protected]. She’s a self-described big, black butch, and she can clear a room like no one else I know.
    Cooper also happens to be the alter ego of the sweetest girl I knew at Princeton—Constance Cooper from Asheville, North Carolina—and she adores me. I’ve had the pleasure of eating her mother’s fried chicken and okra more than once, but nobody needs to know that. I’ll let them think I’m a fucking unicorn.
    I remember the night I met Cooper almost as clearly as I remember meeting Rey. That late September evening had been a night of a lot of firsts. My first play party, held at an opulent home halfway between Princeton and Manhattan, which proved to be a little different from the keg parties that were going down back on campus. It was the first time I felt the comfort of a collar around my neck. It had bound me to Rey in a way I’d never been attached to anyone before. The leather buckled snug around my throat made me feel secure—like part of Rey would never leave me, he’d always be thinking of me, because I belonged to him. I was his responsibility. That’s what the closed silver lock hanging heavy at my throat said to everyone else in the crowd, too.
    Perhaps most importantly, that was the night I met Hunter. He was the host of the party and the owner of the impressive house. Older and so handsome, he’d made my mouth water. Not to mention he’d played the white knight—or maybe a black one—by rescuing me from an uncomfortable encounter with a disrespectful Dom who’d laid hands on me in a way I didn’t care for.
    Hunter had apologized for the guy’s behavior and promised no one there would’ve actually let something bad befall me. “You’d never come back.”
    “What makes you so sure I’ll come back now?”
    He’d leaned back and smiled, a small, knowing smile. That’s when I knew I was in trouble. There was something about him…
    “Won’t you?” He’d cocked an arched brow, and my whole self had clenched around a part of my body I was becoming increasingly familiar with.
    “Yes, sir.”
    His hand had tightened around my arm. Unlike when the other Dom had crushed me, the pressure felt good. I’d been surprised but hadn’t protested when his other hand snaked around my waist and he’d pulled me flush against him. He’d slid his hand over my shoulder, up my neck, and into my hair where he’d tugged it back until I looked at him.
    “There’s a good girl.”
    I was a lost cause. I would’ve done—eventually did do—anything to hear him say that again.
    The thought of Hunter—a brief stab of bleakness like a knife between my ribs—snaps me back to attention. No time to fall down that particular rabbit hole. I’ve got shit to do.
    *
    I scramble to get the report finished and into Cooper’s inbox at 5:29 p.m. EST. When it’s sent, I’m unsurprised there’s a knock at my door.
    “Come in.” I extend the invitation, though I know who it is. He’s already opening the door, and he’s got a bottle and two highball glasses in his hands.
    “Well done, Ms. Burke,” Jack booms, setting the glasses on my desk next to my red soles. He opens the bottle with a flourish and pours us both a generous amount. I don’t bother to ask what it is. I know. It’s bourbon and a really good bourbon, at that.
    “To you, India, and your silver tongue. I don’t know what your secret with Cooper is, but I’m glad you’re on my side.” He raises an arm in a toast and offers me his glass to clink.
    “Giving-me-a-better-parking-spot glad?” Bourbon time is a good time to ask favors. Partly because he only drinks it when he’s pleased, but also because I know he’s already had one in his office before he gets to mine.
    Jack drops into one of the chairs across from my desk, takes a long draught, and looks thoughtful. “Why not? Lucy!”
    “Yes, sir?”
    Poor Lucy. She’s terrified of Jack. She’s never