Teach Me: Sinful Desires Page 13

  Her email dinged.

  Destini rolled her finger over the icon and saw the envelopes of waiting unread messages.

  From: Russell Dumont

  Subject: Missing you

  Date: November 12, 2010 10:02:21 PM EST

  To: Destini_Sanders@yahoo.com

  Destini,

  I know you’re surprised to receive this email. I wasn’t sure if like everything else your email account had changed. But I decided to take a chance. I need to see you. The last time we spoke I was an ass. I know that. Meet me. I miss you.

  Russell

  Destini exhaled. There before her was her ticket out. Good ole Russell to the rescue. She could easily see him and fall back under his domineering spell and reacquaint herself with neglect. Or she could choose a man who she was certain would break her heart and spirit just the same. She got up from the table and found her phone. Pacing, she counted the rings, certain she would have to leave a message. Russell answered on the fourth.

  “This is Russ.”

  “It’s Destini. ”

  Silence.

  “I got your email,” she said.

  “I didn’t think you’d call. You left. Changed your number, your address, you just left.”

  “What is it you want?”

  “Can we not do it over the phone? I need to see you.” His voice was light, but still deep and authoritative.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea—”

  “I have cancer. Testicular cancer Destini.”

  Stunned she dropped on the sofa behind her. “What?”

  “I want to see you. Meet me. Please.”

  “I’m in Manchester Hills.”

  “Really?” he sounded surprised. “Okay. Well I know a place. It’s called Dolphin’s Bay. Have you heard of it?”

  “No, but I can find it,” she said.

  “How about seven tomorrow?”

  “Seven is good. Are you okay Russell?”

  “I am now. See you soon.”

  “Um, okay, bye,” she stammered then hung up. She looked down at the phone in her hand. Cancer? Her heart raced at the mere thought of it. She needed Naiya more than ever. She punched in the numbers to her friend but was interrupted when the doorbell chimed. She hadn’t realized her cottage had one. Tying her robe, her curls a mass of tangles, she padded over the thick carpeting to the door. “Who is it?”

  “Breakfast.”

  Destini undid the locks. She opened the door partially to find Bryce smiling. He wore a powder blue sweater and slacks. He looked freshly shaven and deviously handsome. “May I come in?”

  “It’s not a good time, Bryce.”

  “But I bought a peace offering, breakfast.” Bryce revealed a wicker basket hooked on his left arm. He raised it like a flag, waving it in surrender.

  Destini chewed the inside of her bottom lip. Hard. Finally she opened the door and allowed him to step aside. Bryce walked in. “I see you got my gift.”

  “I want to talk to you about that,” she said closing the door. “The roses? They’re rare, very expensive.”

  “They’re just flowers,” he said under his breath.

  Destini studied him. He could distort the truth with little effort.

  “What is Gaylor Knights? That crest on your ring. What does it represent?”

  “Ah, conversation?” Bryce nodded. “Can I fix breakfast first, before we delve into Gaylor’s secrets? You can go and get pretty for me?”

  “I beg your pardon?” she said with a snort. Destini was painfully aware of her appearance, but she wasn’t too keen on him throwing it in her face.

  Bryce stepped to her. “Or not. I kind of like you this way. Naked would be preferred.”

  Destini rolled her eyes. “Excuse me.” She walked around him and went for her bedroom. She half expected him to follow. He didn’t. He went to the kitchen. Behind the closed door she took a deep breath and then smiled.

  Fifteen

  “Smells good. What is it?” Destini asked.

  Bryce did a double-take from over his shoulder. He turned, his eyes roved over every uncovered part of her before lingering on her breasts. She’d chosen a jean mini-skirt and a yellow top. It was cool out, but she had no intention of leaving the warm comfort of her cottage.

  “French toast. Now take a seat, milady,” he said. She observed him closely. He dropped the golden brown egg toast onto a plate. The table was set with fruit and goblets of juice. He had cleared away her laptop and coffee mug. He had arranged even the utensils how she preferred, taking time to fold her napkin as well. That was a plus.

  Destini sat down. “So you do this often? Cook for your teachers? Why didn’t I get all of this special treatment at Wellington?”

  Bryce set the plate down on the table and sat across from her. “You inspire me. Now.”

  “Now? What’s the difference between the man you were there and the man you are here?”

  “Do I need to remind you of the difference?” he asked. “Shall I show you?”

  Destini lowered her eyes. She picked up her fork and pierced a slice of the powdered toast and then scooped some eggs on her plate. She took the time to cut and arrange her breakfast neatly, making sure none of it touched. When she felt his stare, she looked up into his questioning eyes. “I have this thing about my food touching,” she mumbled. Not sure why she chose to explain herself.

  “Interesting. Why?”

  “Does it matter?” she sighed, pouring a small puddle of amber syrup to the left side of her plate.

  “I’m curious. Does it taste better that way?”

  She smiled. For her it did. She preferred to dip into syrup or in this case mop some up with her French toast as opposed to covering it with the sticky sweet. “Why are you here, Bryce?”

  “Because I want to be.”

  “Okay. Why do you want to be?” she asked.

  “We covered this already,” said Bryce. “And the contract…”

  “I’m not interested in your contract,” she said. Destini forked a square cube of toast and ate it like a delicacy. She chewed slowly. Her gaze met his and she swallowed. Then she ate some more. They sat in silence while she ate for several long minutes. Taking a sip of fresh-squeezed juice she finally addressed him. “Not hungry?”

  “I am hungry, but my taste far exceeds what’s on your plate.”

  “That’s your plan? Feed me, seduce me, and convince me to be your submissive guest?”

  “This is me giving you normalcy. You seem to need it,” Bryce said.

  The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. She sat back, lowering her fork. “I don’t like when you do that.”

  “What?” he asked.

  “Tell me my needs. Assume you know so much about me,” she said.

  “I apologize.”

  “For what?” she asked.

  He smiled. “For taking liberties. I do it naturally now. For so long I wanted to say and do things to you Destini, but there was too much impropriety. Now I feel different. Don’t you?”

  “I want to know about the Gaylor Knights,” she said.

  His left brow winged up. “Really? Someone has been doing a little snooping.” His gaze switched to her laptop then back to her with amusement. She nearly choked. Coughing she sipped her water and collected herself.

  “The crest on your ring, I’ve seen it before. Back at that club. You used it to seal the contract next to your signature. It’s a family crest. Right? It’s tied to Gaylor Knights. Some secret society I guess? What is it? A bunch of freaky men in the Kings court who loved to play with their swords?”

  Bryce gave a false shiver and spoke in a lowered voice. “If that were true, my family would be shamed by the scandal.” He sat upright, poked out his chest, and put bass in his voice. Destini almost chuckled when he looked at her sternly with his arms crossed before him. He said, “The Gaylors are a respectable American family. We are so tired of the comparison. Of course we’ve heard of the Gaylor Knights. But they
are as authentic as Camelot and the Knights of the Round Table. All myth and folklore.”

  “Then why did you adopt it?” she pressed, trying to return seriousness to her questioning. Destini wanted the truth. She knew there was something he wanted to keep hidden.

  “That, sweet lady, you’d have to ask my brother. He’s a better story teller than me.”

  “Your twin?” she asked.

  He winked.

  “Identical?” she asked.

  “Unfortunately,” he responded.

  “Take me to him,” she challenged.

  Bryce eyed her thoughtfully, and then shook his head.

  “You’re hiding something.”

  Bryce reached his fork into her plate. He scooped some eggs and fed them to her. “I want to take you for a ride. Show you the rose gardens. It’s best seen under the moon though.”

  “No thanks.”

  Destini ate from his fork under his watchful stare. Breakfast was good. She was famished, realizing she had skipped dinner last night.

  “Then let me comb your hair. Or do you brush it?” he asked. He cocked his head and looked at her thick curls that had drawn up and frizzed after her shower.

  “No thank you,” she said with a smile. The request flattered her but she refused to admit it.

  “Writing again?” he asked.

  “Yes. Does that please you?” she replied.

  “Yes,” he smiled. “Me and countless others.”

  Breakfast went on without much more conversation. She wasn’t disturbed by the silence. Not even by his penetrating stare. Bryce fit in a place he’d carved for himself in her world. She wasn’t sure how or when he made the transition.

  “I should go,” he said abruptly.

  Destini glanced up. “Now?”

  “I’ll be back around eight. The moon is full then. We will go for a ride. Dress warmly.”

  Bryce rose from the table and headed for the door. He stopped at the roses, touched their petals. He spoke while admiring their beauty. “I can’t wait to make love to you in the garden tonight.”

  He left.

  Destini should have objected. She should have demanded the explanation he was so careful to conceal. Then it occurred to her. She didn’t know how too. This was Bryce’s game now, not hers.

  ***

  Bryce would arrive soon. Destini went through her cottage, stopping to turn off the lamplights when the odd feeling of unreality settled over her. It was as if she’d fallen asleep to wake in another place, time of her life. There was something to be said about transitions, understanding those small moments that propel you toward your present. Blink and you’ll miss all the pertinent clues to explain the reason ‘why’.

  Why had he gone this far for her?

  Why had she not quit and fled the day she learned she worked for him?

  Why had she waited even now for whatever was to come next?

  Was this her future?

  You still haven’t asked yourself the real question, Destini. You know, the one you pretend isn’t there. Why is it part of you hopes he does win this battle of possession over you? Why do you secretly think about signing that contract?

  Most of her Saturday was spent on the couch. She slept, read a book, and then slept some more between bites of raisin bread and a bag of unsalted pretzels. Hours later, she finally rose from her mundane routine and began to dress. Choosing jeans and a cable-knit turtleneck, she first groomed herself from head to toe. She struggled over deciding between boots and her sneakers. Ultimately she chose comfort over fashion. When she sat down in her chair to wait for his return, the dark silence of her place made her isolation more keenly felt. Could she admit that curiosity had bloomed into some undeniable attraction when she blinked? Was Bryce just another Russell out to control, ultimately, to disappoint her fractured heart? Destini’s gaze left the void of her thoughts and focused once more on the ceramic green vase that held two dozen long-stemmed roses. Black Jade roses, which were his dark promise of more things taboo.

  Bryce arrived minutes later. There was a slow rumble of an engine that soon eased into an idling purr. She could see him sitting behind the wheel, staring at her cottage. Destini didn’t move. She waited, and the soft knocks followed. She opened the door to find him dressed in all black. His leather biker’s jacket and gloves added to his handsomeness. The thick roll of his turtleneck squared his dimpled chin. His broad shoulders, narrow waist, and muscle-packed thighs in his black jeans gave her thoughts she dared not reveal. He offered his hand. She stepped out, locking the door behind her. When she turned to follow, he had moved in even closer. He towered over her, blocking the moon and the universe. At first she didn’t know why he remained so close. Then he demonstrated with a brush of his lips over hers and kissed her nose. It was an act of tenderness that made her want to trust him. Could Bryce Carson Gaylor be worthy of her trust now?

  The car he chose was a two-seater vintage convertible Mercedes. In the dark she had a hard time noticing the model number. She eased inside and he hurried around and got behind the wheel. Night sounds were the only ones between them. Bryce hadn’t spoken, other than to tell her she was beautiful before he sped in reverse then swerved the sleek vehicle into drive.

  The convertible glided over the road with spectral ease. With the top down and him shifting into higher speed she felt weightless, almost airborne. If it weren’t for his hand that kept reaching over to stroke her thigh she would have considered the night drive a dream.

  This was no dream.

  On the winding, unlit roads of Manchester Hills, and locked behind the campus gates, they became the night. The moon was full but the stars absent. She dropped her head back and trained her eyes on the moon until it became a glowing disc that he seemed to race toward. The campus was bathed in a soft, ethereal moonlight light. Somewhere, students crept in and out of each other’s rooms, or gathered in the rectory and watched their favorite reality show. Teachers went about a Saturday night by eating with spouses or family, reading, or chatting up friends on Skype. Somewhere under this same moon there was normalcy of her mother who prayed often after rereading a favorite bible verse from her grandmothers’ bible. She cast her gaze over to Bryce. What would the night bring for them?

  He veered off the main road to an unseen one. She thought they were crashing through trees. It turned out that it was a paved one-lane roadway for bikers or joggers. The small sports car fit nicely. The dense tree cover they passed through blocked the moonlight and the path grew even more treacherous. Instead of slowing, Bryce continued at quantum speed. Exhilarated, terrified, and aware, she knew she was his because she could never find her way out of the dark forest.

  The car purred just before it slowed to a cruise. Then they came to a full stop. It was over, and to her surprise she was disappointed. Destini reclined back. She surveyed their surroundings.

  “What is this place?” she asked.

  “A beginning,” he said. He left the car and went around to open her door. Destini took his hand and was pulled into his arms. Bryce kissed her fully on the mouth and she made no effort to resist. She was then led away from the car. It was a garden, an acre or two of wild beauty below the hilltop path he parked on. The entrance was an arch of ivy on painted white iron that led behind the cover of large manicured shrubbery. To her amazement, each side was sprinkled with black roses.

  She felt his gloved hand slip into hers, giving her palm a squeeze. “What do you think?” he asked, his mouth a breath from her ear.

  “They’re beautiful.” It was the first thought that came to her mind so she shared it.

  “Many things are, especially if you want them to be.”

  Disbelieving his coy response, she let go of his hand. She had to touch the night blooms, inhale them. Their open petals, under moonlight, compelled her to. So she did. The perfumed majesty of the delicate flowers left her enchanted. What else would she find in the strange garden, she wondered? She fingered the soft, dark petals. There were hundre
ds of them. She saw the domed white cover of a gazebo. She started walking toward it, stopping every few feet to gaze upon the flowers, feeling as if many were yawning as she passed.

  “They bloom under a full moon,” he said behind her, as if reading her thoughts.

  Destini kept going. It was a gazebo, with beautiful benches and a brick-layered central fountain. She couldn’t take another step forward. Bryce went around her. He climbed the steps with his hands shoved down into the pockets of his leather jacket.

  “Destini?”

  Destini switched her gaze to his face, cast in the shadow of the night.

  “When we are alone, would it be a problem for you to call me Sir?” he asked.

  She wasn’t sure how she intended to tell him that she already did in her head. The Bryce Carson she knew at Wellington was in no way the same man who she saw him as today.

  “Why do you ask?” she answered.

  “We all wear masks,” he continued. “Sometimes we forget who we really are. Sometimes, if we are lucky, someone comes along and shows us who we really want to be. I cheated with you. I gave you the fantasy before I made the introduction. Sir, is a name I’ve had for many years with my submissive’s.”

  “I’m not one of your submissive’s.”

  “Are you sure about that?” he asked. “I wanted to have breakfast with you. I did. I wanted to spend the evening with you. I am. And when I want to touch you. I will.”

  She stopped walking at his side. He let go of her hand and faced her. She looked him over and then lifted her gaze to his stare once more. “Did you bring me here because of some cult or secret society you want me to belong too? Is that the real purpose of the contract?”

  He chuckled.

  “I’m serious. The club, this school and the history of this place, all of it seems purposefully misleading when it comes to you Bryce. I need to know who the man is that wants me to give in to him the way you’ve asked.”

  “I didn’t bring you here to Gaylor. In fact I did everything in my power to try to stop your interview,” Bryce said.

  “Now I’m really confused.” Destini chuckled.