Sneak Peek: Icarus (Patreon)

This sneak peek is from near the end of Chapter 4. Julia has taken David out to Icarus. an expensive if somewhat dull hotel bar, and set him up for a one night stand. On his way to the bar, he has serious doubts.

Enjoy!

***

           Nearing the bar, I hesitated. My body thrummed, murmur of need beneath the flesh, and my brain ached. Half naked, I felt hot. Eying the entrance, I glanced over my shoulder at Julia. In the minute it took me to descend to the bar, someone had moved in. She wasn’t alone. A large man in a suit, indistinct in the dim light of the bar, stood over her. Julia looked up at him. Indicated the man should sit. He did, heavy shadowed bulk joining her.

            I gnawed my lip with indecision. Julia’s AI approved of my delicate confusion. I bit down harder, swaying as the toy hummed with ecstasy.

            God, I needed….

            My nails dug into my thigh. I gritted my teeth through a wave of pleasure.

            No. Fuck it—and even thinking it brought a warning tingle to my throat—but no, no fucking way, a thousand times no, fuck Julia and her goddamn toy and all this right to hell. This was—insane. No disguise needed this. One thing to… to prance around in a sexy dress and heels. Even, under threat, to follow some guy to his apartment and—drop to my knees and—but to—I bit my lip—my hands fluttering at my side.

            To sit with some guy. Flick back long hair, smile and laugh, and rest my hand over his, briefly. A drink? Tinkling laughter. I’d love one, yes—how kind. Coo at his boasts; laugh at his jokes. Another? I shouldn’t but… glance away, suddenly shy; blush and look up through heavy eyelashes and smile: why not? His hand, on my knee. Leaning in. Hot breath on my cheek, whisper at my ear and wide-eyed nod. Yes. Yes, and hand in hand follow him up to his hotel room. Standing silently in the elevator amongst others, already wet with anticipation, palm pressed surreptitiously to the bulge in his pants. Stumble down the hallway. Cardkey swipe, through the door, hand on ass, a pinch, a squeal—falling into him, the first kiss, hot and heavy and eager, slamming up against the wall. A flurry of wet kisses, grabs, tits and shirt and tie, and the susurration of a zipper, sliding down, and the moment in which it all pauses as with a wiggle the dress drops to the floor, joined by a bra, amethyst coils at the foot of a naked goddess in heels striding in glory towards the bed, rising on it like divinity on a dais and the man approaches like a pilgrim to a shrine, humble and so very full of sin as she lies back and he touches the foot, the knee and parts the legs and rises—rises with devotion and approaches—presses down—and enters the sacral space ….

            The vibrator kicked in once again and I nearly melted to the floor.

            No. No—I couldn’t… follow some guy back to his room and… lie back. Spread my legs. Let him—feel him—inside me.

            I held a hand to my throbbing temple. My palm felt slick with sweat, my forehead hot.

            Fuck, though, I’d miss her.

            The decision was agonising, but making it brought clarity, like waking from a long sleep. My head still hurt but the way forward seemed easier. Yes: I’d miss Julia and all the bullshit that came with her, playing at maid, her dress-up doll, ticking off her bucket list. I’d miss being her girlfriend and confidant.

            But the job was done. I’d gotten as much out of her as I could. I—felt something for her—but the cost was too high; she expected too much. She wanted to force me across a line from which I’d never return. She couched it as a favour, the gentle push rather than the yank of the collar. Break me and hide the pieces: this was her plan to keep me safe.

            But I’d been broken before, and an item once repaired is never as strong as it once was. I’d tried to deny this for years—for my whole adult life. This wasn’t the time or place but an overwhelming sadness—a sucking, galling grief—swept over me at the sudden acknowledgement of a past long buried. And riding this swell of emotion was fear.

            This fear gnawed at me, a twisting of the belly, a trembling at the knees. Terrified, I felt myself standing at a precipice, tottering in heels at the edge of a cliff. Playing at—no, even being Cindy was something I’d grudgingly accepted. But this? To fuck some guy, what, bar pickup and a one-night stand? To do what she wanted was to step into the abyss.

            I’d been staring up at her indistinct shape in the dark recess of the bar. Taking a deep breath, suppressing that awful feeling inside of me, I turned my back on her. I took the first step towards the exit. And then there was a presence in front of me, large man shape blocking the way.

            I bounced off his chest.

            “Woah.” Judging by his voice, he was half-amused, half annoyed, holding his drink high to avoid spillage.

            “Sorry,” I mumbled, and tried to wave this guy off, sidle past him, but suddenly he had me by the upper arm in an assured grip.

            “Hey, what’s the rush?”

            Suppressing the instinct—with a warning buzz at the throat—blistering pain searing across my skull—to turn and slap this guy or knee him in the groin, I instead forced a vapid smile to my face. It’s only as I turned to face him that I realized this guy’s voice was familiar. I blinked up at him through a mess of hair fallen across my face. I had to crane my neck, because of course even wearing heels I’m shorter than he is. My stomach clenched and twisted anew, and my blood ran cold.

            “Surely a pretty girl like you,” he said, voice a dark growl, his hand a confident match as he held me, “isn’t alone tonight?”