Zeck was struggling to joke through his
emotions.
It had shocked me at first how deep he was. I’d
naively thought he was all about the fame and just a pretty face. But he was so
much more than that. He’d taken to BDSM like a duck to water. He’d confessed
how out of control he’d felt for so long. I’d never really considered how much
of a singer’s life was dictated to them by managers and schedules.
I rummaged back through the basket until I found a
brush. I shook my head with a laugh. That basket had everything anyone could
possibly need in the bathroom. As I combed out my very well conditioned hair I
remembered why I had been drawn to BDSM. My father was a workaholic and my
mother a socialite who only had kids because everyone else was doing it. I’d
spent my whole life picking up after her and making sure my younger sister was
okay. I’d always needed to be in control and to take charge to get things done.
The idea of a man coming in and taking over, while keeping my best interests at
heart, sounded pretty damn good to me. Although, I was certain I couldn’t
handle a man who wanted that amount of control outside the bedroom. Zeck didn’t come across as someone who’d want that level of
submission.
Then the first time I’d stepped into the club and seen
a woman strung from the ceiling something clicked inside me. Rope was my thing.
Honestly, the harder stuff like knife and flame play made me cringe.
With a sigh, I headed out the door back to the
bedroom. The outer door was open an inch, and deep angry male voices floated
into the room.
“I repeat, Zeck . There’s
photos! The press have damn photographic evidence of you beating a woman! What
were you thinking? Right Time does not need another scandal.”
“Jas? Back me up, man. He’s obviously not going to
believe me no matter how I say it, but let me try one last time. It’s not what
it looks like. Those photos are out of context! Dammit.”
“Phillip, Zeck speaks the
truth. That club is a BDSM club. The woman was there by choice and enjoyed her
time with Zeck . The club also has a no camera policy.
I was late here because I was attempting to call the owner about it.”
I collapsed onto the bed. Photos? Oh no. Bile rose up my throat, and I swallowed it down.
Something like that would spread worldwide in minutes. How would I ever get
work when the world thought I was some kind of pain slut? Tears dripped down my
cheeks as I reached for my clothes from the night before. Fortunately, I’d
gotten changed into my street clothes at the club before I came back here with Zeck . I pulled my jeans on and winced when they scraped
over each of my bruises. Only twenty minutes ago they’d been a sweet reminder,
but now they felt dirty. I pulled my shirt over my head and reached for my bag.
Stopping mid turn I gasped when I saw my reflection in
the mirror. There was a massive hickey on the side of my neck. I needed to
cover up and sneak out. I didn’t want to make things even harder for Zeck . He had enough to deal with already.
Looking around I saw his black hoodie tossed onto a
chair. Quickly I put it on and froze for a moment. It smelled of him. I
squeezed my eyes closed and took a deep breath. Hmm. The man smelled so damn good. I shook my head and snatched my
bag up. I needed to get out of here. I’d had a night with a famous singer. It
wasn’t reality but a snippet out of time. I hoped back in Australia those
pictures hadn’t made it into the mainstream media. Maybe if I dye my hair and wear colored contacts I could still get a
job? Gah !
I paused and peaked around the door. There was a small
group of men standing around a table, but none of them were looking this way.
Taking a deep breath, I put my handbag strap over my head and slipped down the
hallway. With a racing heartbeat I pulled on the door and silently slipped from
the apartment. The hallway outside was empty but I didn’t know how long that
would last, so I sprinted for the elevator
emotions.
It had shocked me at first how deep he was. I’d
naively thought he was all about the fame and just a pretty face. But he was so
much more than that. He’d taken to BDSM like a duck to water. He’d confessed
how out of control he’d felt for so long. I’d never really considered how much
of a singer’s life was dictated to them by managers and schedules.
I rummaged back through the basket until I found a
brush. I shook my head with a laugh. That basket had everything anyone could
possibly need in the bathroom. As I combed out my very well conditioned hair I
remembered why I had been drawn to BDSM. My father was a workaholic and my
mother a socialite who only had kids because everyone else was doing it. I’d
spent my whole life picking up after her and making sure my younger sister was
okay. I’d always needed to be in control and to take charge to get things done.
The idea of a man coming in and taking over, while keeping my best interests at
heart, sounded pretty damn good to me. Although, I was certain I couldn’t
handle a man who wanted that amount of control outside the bedroom. Zeck didn’t come across as someone who’d want that level of
submission.
Then the first time I’d stepped into the club and seen
a woman strung from the ceiling something clicked inside me. Rope was my thing.
Honestly, the harder stuff like knife and flame play made me cringe.
With a sigh, I headed out the door back to the
bedroom. The outer door was open an inch, and deep angry male voices floated
into the room.
“I repeat, Zeck . There’s
photos! The press have damn photographic evidence of you beating a woman! What
were you thinking? Right Time does not need another scandal.”
“Jas? Back me up, man. He’s obviously not going to
believe me no matter how I say it, but let me try one last time. It’s not what
it looks like. Those photos are out of context! Dammit.”
“Phillip, Zeck speaks the
truth. That club is a BDSM club. The woman was there by choice and enjoyed her
time with Zeck . The club also has a no camera policy.
I was late here because I was attempting to call the owner about it.”
I collapsed onto the bed. Photos? Oh no. Bile rose up my throat, and I swallowed it down.
Something like that would spread worldwide in minutes. How would I ever get
work when the world thought I was some kind of pain slut? Tears dripped down my
cheeks as I reached for my clothes from the night before. Fortunately, I’d
gotten changed into my street clothes at the club before I came back here with Zeck . I pulled my jeans on and winced when they scraped
over each of my bruises. Only twenty minutes ago they’d been a sweet reminder,
but now they felt dirty. I pulled my shirt over my head and reached for my bag.
Stopping mid turn I gasped when I saw my reflection in
the mirror. There was a massive hickey on the side of my neck. I needed to
cover up and sneak out. I didn’t want to make things even harder for Zeck . He had enough to deal with already.
Looking around I saw his black hoodie tossed onto a
chair. Quickly I put it on and froze for a moment. It smelled of him. I
squeezed my eyes closed and took a deep breath. Hmm. The man smelled so damn good. I shook my head and snatched my
bag up. I needed to get out of here. I’d had a night with a famous singer. It
wasn’t reality but a snippet out of time. I hoped back in Australia those
pictures hadn’t made it into the mainstream media. Maybe if I dye my hair and wear colored contacts I could still get a
job? Gah !
I paused and peaked around the door. There was a small
group of men standing around a table, but none of them were looking this way.
Taking a deep breath, I put my handbag strap over my head and slipped down the
hallway. With a racing heartbeat I pulled on the door and silently slipped from
the apartment. The hallway outside was empty but I didn’t know how long that
would last, so I sprinted for the elevator
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