Grind Page 8

  I continue to ignore him, flipping through some boring contract dispute, but my eyes aren't really seeing anything. My mind is still swirling over the fact that Matt now knows, and he might spill the juicy secret to Mac.

  "I won't tell Mac," he says out of the blue, and eerily... as if he had just read my mind.

  My head snaps up. "You won't? I thought spouses shared everything."

  "Not everything," Matt clarifies but doesn't elucidate.

  I cock an eyebrow up at him skeptically.

  "I don't tell her everything," he confirms to me. "Just like Mac doesn't tell me everything."

  His tone of voice is obvious. I know exactly what he's trying to say in that very vague statement, which isn't all that vague.

  "You're talking about Macy's secrets," I guess, and Matt nods.

  "I have no clue what causes Macy's demons," Matt says quietly. "It's really none of my business, but whatever it is, it distresses Mac."

  My stomach rolls. "Like how?"

  "Like Mac has nightmares about Macy," he says in a thick voice. "Whatever it is that she knows, it scares her. Sometimes, it makes her sick. I don't have to tell you how protective of Macy that Mac is, but I'm pretty sure my wife would kill anyone that would ever hurt her."

  His message is clear. "And you're warning me?"

  "Absolutely not," he says as if affronted. "I don't think you'd hurt Macy at all, which is why I have no intention of telling Mac what I saw. I'm content to just let this thing play out and see what happens. It's almost like a little mini soap opera."

  I give Matt a harsh glare. "Glad my love life is so entertaining to you."

  "Love life?" he asks with raised eyebrows and a sparkle of amusement in his eyes.

  "Sex life," I clarify.

  Matt shrugs his shoulders and stands up from the chair. He stares down at me a moment, and then causes the fucking hair to stand up on my arms. "Tread carefully," he says in a soft voice. I think it might be a warning that he just swore to me he had no intention of giving, but then he amends. "I don't know what the deal is with Macy, but she could really hurt you. Just don't set your expectations too high with her."

  My jaw drops... mouth gaping open.

  Matt Fucking Connover just gave me some advice that would protect me.

  As if he actually... cared?

  I shake my head vigorously, because no fucking way does that man care about me. It still doesn't stop me from asking him for something though.

  "Can I ask your opinion about this?" I say cautiously.

  "Sure," he says as he tucks his hands into his pockets and looks down at me with an open face.

  So weird to be getting this from him.

  "I'm worried," I begin slowly, not quite sure how to say this. "About being with Macy."

  Matt waits patiently... just like I remember the Matt of old. He was always the one that would hold his tongue until he had all the facts. He never ventured forth with words until he was sure of himself in all respects. It made him a great sounding board back when we were best friends, and a small yearning for the good old days pumps through me.

  "I know you don't know what Macy's deal is... but I have to ask... do you think she was raped?"

  Matt's lips draw downward, and sympathy fills his eyes. He gives a slow shake of his head. "I don't know, man. I really don't."

  "It's just," I start, and then falter. Taking a deep breath, I forge ahead. "It's just... our sex is... um... a bit enthusiastic. Neither one of us have much in the way of limits. I don't want to do anything that..."

  And now I do trail off, because this all seems so sordid, and I'm wondering if I should just cut Macy loose. This has disaster written all over it.

  "You're worried that she's been traumatized, and you don't want to do anything that makes it worse, right?"

  "Yeah... that's about the sum of it," I say gloomily.

  "I honestly don't know," Matt says sympathetically. "But I do know this... Macy isn't going to do anything she's not comfortable with. She's not the type that could be strong-armed. And she clearly likes sex."

  That sounds about right to me.

  Or maybe... I want it to sound right to me so I can keep her. Or rather, keep working at her to let me in.

  "Listen... I've got an appointment I have to get to," Matt says as he turns away and starts walking to my door. When he gets there, he hesitates and turns back to me. "But for what it's worth... I think you're good for Macy."

  I blink at him... slowly, unsure of what to say. It's the nicest thing Matt has said to me in years. For some fucking reason, it makes me want to cry over the loss of his friendship, something that I thought I was through mourning.

  "Thanks," I say through a thickened tongue. "Appreciate it."

  He nods, and then he's gone.

  And I have no more clarity on the subject, other than a very vague hope that Matt's last words to me might have some semblance of truth.

  That I might possibly be good for Macy.

  Chapter 13

  From the Diary of Macy Carrington:

  Dear Diary,

  I swore my parents didn't have the capacity to make me cry anymore, but apparently, that was a pipe dream. It only took eleven years of walking on eggshells around them and they managed to reduce me to tears in just a matter of a few ignorant moments.

  The summons to meet them for dinner was one I didn't think to ignore. For some sick reason, I succumb to their desires to paint a pretty picture of the Carrington family, so I have, over the years, met them for various dinners, parties, and lunches. Affairs that are usually designed by my mother to let the outside world know that the Carringtons are a solid unit. That not only are we rich, powerful, and practically omniscient, but that we also hold fond esteem, deep respect, and abiding love for one another.

  Oh, the lies that we show the outside world.

  Normally, I would show up at their 5th Avenue penthouse apartment, suck up all of my bitter rage and pain, and plant a false smile on my face. I'd suffer in tormenting silence while my father tells me numbing details about his latest acquisition, and my mother tries to impress me with tales of some politician's wife that has now become her best friend of all times.

  But tonight... I was ambushed.

  Plain and simple, and I'll try to recount it as best I can, because one day... one day I'll read back on this and know that this is where my life started to really tank, and where I actually became afraid that I could be in danger.

  I walked into the formal living room filled with gilded antiques and silk Persian rugs, prepared to do my Carrington duty, only to find my uncle Luke sitting on the velvet, royal-blue settee. My father was at the mini bar pouring drinks, and my mother was laughing at something he said.

  As soon as I walked in, Luke--who I often call Lucifer using my inside voice--turned his silver-gray eyes my way and gave me a smile.

  "What's he doing here?" I asked without taking my eyes off him. It's not that I wanted to look at his evil face, but that I didn't trust him enough to give him my back. I knew the minute I looked away, his gaze would roam all over me, trying to find some weakness he could exploit.

  "Macy," my father said harshly. "That's rude."

  My eyes slowly slid to my father, the exact replica of Uncle Luke, and this was because they were identical twins, my father the eldest by three minutes.

  "I'm sorry," I said in a polite but frosty tone as I flicked my gaze between my father and my mother. My dad's eyes were steely, and my mother's worried. "But I can't stay if he's here."

  Luke chuckled, which almost made me vomit as I turned to walk out, but my mother's voice halted me. "Please, Macy. We have something important to discuss with you."

  My mother has never begged me for anything, but I could hear the need in her voice. It turned me cold, and I grudgingly turned back toward her.

  "We have something very serious we need to discuss with you," she reiterated with a quavering voice.

  "What?" I asked impatiently, my s
kin crawling as I knew Luke's eyes were pinned on me.

  "Quarter Mine is under investigation by the SEC and the Feds," my father said brusquely. My eyes slid to his, and while his voice sounded calmly confident, I could see the unease within.

  "For what?" I asked curiously. I don't know much about my father's business but then again... I didn't need to. I had a trust fund that kept me blessedly removed from it.

  "It's not important," my father said. "But we have to be united."

  I glanced around the room. My father held me in a commanding gaze. Luke's eyes were licentiously amused, and my mother wouldn't look at me.

  "United?" I asked, but I had a sickening feeling I knew what he meant.

  "Our financials have been subpoenaed," Luke said as he stood up from the settee. I thought he might be coming my way, so I took a nervous step backward, which caused him to chuckle. Instead, he walked to the mini bar and poured himself a drink.

  "All of our financial records," my father clarified. "Both for Quarter Mine and our family personally."

  "Macy," my mother said with pleading eyes. "We have to keep our stories straight. Otherwise, we could all be in very big trouble."

  And that is when my eyes started to sting. I knew tears would be forthcoming, but I bit them back. There was no way in fuck I was going to let Luke see me cry. Not after holding it together for eleven years during our intermittent run-ins.

  "You mean, you want to make sure I keep up the lie?" I sneered.

  "Young lady," my father gritted out, and a quick peek at Luke and I had to control the shudder over the greasy, knowing look in his eyes. "You will do what's right by this family."

  I bowed my head, took a deep breath, and whispered. "Of course I will."

  I didn't look back as I turned around and walked out, Luke's mocking laugh following me out. I heard my mother hiss something at him, but then I shut it all out.

  The tears were pouring by the time I hit the front door, and they haven't dried yet.

  Why have I recounted this, Diary?

  Because I'll keep the horrid secret from everyone but you and Mac. Your pages already hold the honest truth of what happened, and while I will work to protect this sham of a family, I can't protect myself from the hidden shame.

  It's unfair of me to ask you to shoulder this burden, just as it's unfair to Mac. But there you have it. I'm a coward and can't do this alone. I had to at least get it out so someone would know that this isn't going to be easy on me. That everything I've done to keep myself from unraveling is now perilously close to dismantling.

  I'm not sure I can handle it.

  Sadly,

  Macy

  Chapter 14

  It's ten after nine, and I'm convinced that Macy has bailed on me. Not that I'd be overly disappointed not to have to step foot inside this old, gothic mansion just over an hour away from the city in New Canaan, Connecticut. I've been patiently waiting on the front portico as I've watched limo after limo pull up and deposit wanton couples who are looking to get their rocks off with a public orgy or some shit.

  Part turned on, part turned off, my apprehension is mounting. I have no clue if I can actually give this to her. The thought of immersing myself in a deviant culture of beautiful people who will be flashing cock and pussy all around for everyone to see is titillating no doubt. I could absolutely see me bringing a one-night stand to a place like this and busting a very happy nut while fucking her for all to see.

  But I'm not sure I can reconcile doing this with Macy.

  Who is chased by demons and uses sexual dominance and depravity to soothe her soul. I'm scared this will make things worse.

  I'm scared even more that it could make things better for her.

  I think she's going to bail because Mac told me Macy had cancelled on their plans together last night. Mac was bothered, I could tell. Said that Macy wanted to be alone, and I took that as some "code" between the two women that only they understood. It made me sick to my stomach imagining all the things that it could mean.

  "You look good enough to eat," I hear from my left and turn to see Macy walking toward me. Her long legs are beautifully bare as she strides with surety. A shimmery gold, lame dress hugs her curves, rising indecently high with her breasts showcased in a plunging "V" that comes down below her sternum. It makes me want to stick my nose in her cleavage and bite at her skin.

  I'm moderately underdressed compared to Macy. I chose a pair of charcoal-gray slacks with an open-necked black shirt, so I'm surprised when she tosses me a black, Lone Ranger-style mask made of silk. "Here you go, Kemosabe. For anonymity."

  As she walks up the five granite steps toward me, she affixes a gold, sparkly mask over her own face, complete with white feathers along the edge. When she reaches the top step, she walks right up to me, rises on her tiptoes, and gives me an openmouthed kiss. Her tongue slips in; she gives a little growl, and just as quickly pulls away.

  My cock immediately starts thickening with need for her.

  "You ready?" she asks me, a challenging sparkle in her eye.

  "Ready as I'll ever be," I tell her, and then bring the silk mask up to secure it to my face. I'm not sure how much of my identity it will conceal, but I promised I'd go in with her. I can't really worry about it now.

  Macy laces her fingers within my own and leads me up to the massive wooden double doors, which are guarded by a woman in a black, silk suit and ivory blouse. She looks like a fucking attorney and holds a clipboard in her hand.

  "Four-seven-seven-two," Macy says to her, and the woman runs a pen down the clipboard, coming to pause on a line.

  "Password?" the woman asks.

  "Saint," Macy says and shoots me a wink.

  "Welcome to Voyeur," the lady says as she pushes open the door and motions us past her. "Enjoy your evening."

  "We will," Macy murmurs and tugs on my hand so I follow her in.

  I'm not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn't the lavishly appointed foyer filled with elegant people mingling in opulent masks and sipping at cocktails. Muted music plays in the background and murmured conversation echoes throughout the large room.

  A few couples turn as we walk by them, eyes running up and down Macy and me... probably checking us out as potential fuck mates or maybe even thinking we could be competition. I'm not sure, but I particularly don't like the way the men look at the beautiful woman beside me.

  Macy just nods at people, handing out brusque smiles, and leads us up to a bar where a statuesque Asian woman who is completely naked mixes drinks. My eyes flick to her breasts, which are small and pierced, and Macy gives my hand a squeeze. "She's lovely, isn't she?"

  "She is," I agree, and I wonder briefly if Macy is perhaps gauging my interest in a three-way with another woman.

  That's definitely something I could be down with, for sure. While the thought of another man touching Macy bothers me to the extreme, the thought of another woman running her mouth all over her greatly appeals to me and doesn't threaten my security for some reason.

  Terrible double standard, I know, but there you have it.

  "What would you like to drink?" Macy asks as we step up to the bar and the Asian woman gives us a smile.

  "Just some club soda," I say as I look around in interest. I see several hallways leading off the foyer and wonder where all the orgy sex is. I sort of expected we'd just walk right into it when we entered.

  "Two club sodas," Macy says, and then turns to me. "No alcohol for you? I thought you might want to loosen up a little. You look absolutely uncomfortable here."

  "I don't want my judgment impaired," I tell her honestly, and she nods at me in understanding.

  "I don't want my senses dulled," she says sexily as she places a hand on my hip. "I want to feel everything."

  "So, where's all the sex?" I ask as the bartender sets two glasses of iced club soda before us with twists of lime.

  Macy hands a glass to me before taking her own. "Each of the hallways contain rooms where people ca
n engage in various acts."

  "And you know this how?" I ask curiously, and then take a sip of my drink.

  "I got an email from the manager here when I made reservations. It contained an informational brochure. There are group rooms where you can engage in public sex. Other rooms where you can partner up with other swingers. Some rooms where you can just observe. They have security in each room to make sure things stay safe, which is something I appreciate."

  "I won't let anything bad happen to you," I assure her, and I'm rewarded with a sweet smile and a kiss to my lower jaw.

  "I know you won't," she says before taking a sip of her drink. "Want to just walk around a bit and check things out?"

  "Sure," I say in what I hope is a casual voice, although I'm vibrating on this weird frequency level that borders between lust and abhorrence. I'm turned on yet still fearful of what may be coming our way.

  "Relax, Saint Cal," Macy teases me but it's without malice. "We can leave any time you want."

  I give her a nod and place my unfinished club soda on the bar. Macy does the same, and then I place my hand on her lower back, turning her toward the closest hallway toward us.

  I'm determined.

  I'm going to make sure Macy gets off tonight, regardless of what my reservations are. I'm not sure what my limits will be, but I know, without a doubt, I'm going to give Macy want she wants tonight.

  Because deep down... I just sense... she needs this.

  The hall is long and dimly lit with gas sconces on the walls that cast flickering shadows along the way. We quickly find out that each room we come upon has a built-in glass window beside the door, allowing wide-open viewing of what's going on inside.

  The first window we come upon, a group of about six stand in front of it, calmly sipping champagne while they watch the show. There's not enough room for us, so we give a look as we walk by, and I'm not surprised to see a room filled with various couples and threesomes having sex. There's scattered furniture... a few large beds, couches, and some padded benches. Every surface is filled with naked, writhing limbs, and I feel the first touch of true lust starting to spark within me.

  We pass by two more windows but do nothing more than glance in, even though there's plenty of space to stand and gawk. I notice a small light over each door, some green, and others red.