Aline Hunter - Make Me Shiver

Candice nodded and took another sip of her tea. “Looking back, it was a stupid thing to do. But I’m glad I did it, because it allowed me to take back my life.”

“I don’t understand,” Lacey said slowly.

“When I arrived, I discovered the address was nothing more than an abandoned warehouse.

Parked right in front was a limousine, and standing beside the rear door was the girl from the library.

She told me the person I wanted to talk to was inside the car so I walked over, slid inside and came face-to-face with a woman. She was in her thirties, well-dressed, and would have been stunning if it hadn’t been for the scar from her temple to her lip. She told me she knew what occurred on campus and offered me an opportunity to reclaim what I’d lost. When I told her that was impossible she assured me that not only was it possible, but if I was willing to listen and observe I could learn something that could change my life.”

“What did you do?”

“I agreed.”

“You agreed?”

Candice sighed and placed her glass on the table. “You have to understand something. After everything that happened I was a total wreck. There was no adequate way to describe what I was feeling. I couldn’t talk to anyone about it, not entirely.” She looked up and met Lacey’s confused stare.

“Not even you.”

The honesty hurt, preventing Lacey from responding. Ever since she and Candice had met, at the first student assembly, they’d shared everything with each other.

Or so she’d thought.

“It’s not about you, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s about something you couldn’t understand, and it’s something I wouldn’t want you to understand.”

She managed to keep her voice neutral. “Then try explaining it to me.”

“I was introduced to other women who had been used, hurt or taken advantage of by men.

They shared their stories, asked about mine and allowed me to realize that I never had to be placed in that position again.”

“So it was a support group?”

Candice seemed extremely nervous and uncomfortable. “Not exactly.”

“Then what was it?”

Candice looked Lacey in the eye again, as if steeling herself not to look away when she answered. “They were all Dommes. Female dominants.”

“Say what?”

“You heard me.”

Yes, she had, but her mind didn’t want to accept it. Female dominants. Dommes.

Holy shit.

She gazed from side to side, unable to come up with anything to say. Her best friend, a woman she had known for years, was involved with Dommes.

Unbelievable.

Reading her as she was so prone to, Candice said, “Say something.”

“I’m thinking.”

“Think harder.”

Lacey laughed. “I’m drawing a blank.”

“That’s obvious.”

“So you’re a Domme?”

“Does that surprise you?”

Hell yes, it surprised her. But when Lacey really thought about it, the revelation made sense.

Candice was always in control— always. With her job, she was the boss. She decided what stories she would or wouldn’t take, and she didn’t like to be told what to do.

“It’s unexpected but not shocking.” Lacey recalled how knowledgeable Candice was when it came to Michael’s sexual activities. “I suppose I should have seen it before now.”

“I didn’t want you to.” Candice gave a weak smile when she saw Lacey’s hurt expression.

“What I do behind closed doors isn’t anyone’s business, no offense.”

“You could have trusted me. I would have understood.”

“Is that so? Because I’m not all that sure. You understand now because you’re in a relationship with a Dom. Before Mike, I don’t know if you would have approached it in the same way.”

She wanted to argue but didn’t dare. Candice could be right or wrong. Lacey had always considered herself an open-minded person but then again, she’d also run from Michael like he was an incarnation of the devil the minute she learned about his sexual preferences. It had taken time for her to grasp the implications of D/s play, both in and out of the bedroom, and it was something she was still attempting to fully comprehend.

“So…” Lacey couldn’t believe she was about to have this kind of conversation with Candice.

Talk about growing up and expanding your horizons. Once they’d gushed over John Hughes films. It figured their innocent lusts would blossom to Doms, Dommes and all things fetish. “Do you go to clubs?”

“Look at you, blushing and excited,” Candice snickered. “No wonder Mike was a goner.” She reached for her glass. “I go to a club in Atlanta when the mood strikes. That’s why I needed an invitation to Fantasia. I never mix my personal life with pleasure, so it’s necessary to travel to a location where no one knows me or asks questions. Besides, most of the time I’m too busy working to find time to play.”

“That’s all it is for you? Work and play?”

“I don’t want a serious relationship, Lace.” Candice wasn’t smiling anymore. “After college I made the decision to keep all of my romantic involvements strictly sexual. I have a job I enjoy, a home I’m proud of and I don’t feel the need to add anything else to it.”

“Doesn’t that get, you know… lonely?”

“I’m sure it might be to some people. It works just fine for me.”

“So the cop who came to your apartment,” Lacey noticed now it was Candice who appeared uncomfortable, “was he strictly a sexual partner? Because he didn’t look like he was into casual.”

“He was something that never should have happened.”

“Why not?”

Candice planted her glass on the table, causing tea to slosh over the top. “I was on the job. I never should have let anyone or anything distract me. He just happened to rescue me from a needy sub who was drawing unwanted attention, and I took advantage of the situation. In retrospect, it was sloppy and foolish on my part.”

“What are you going to do?”

“About?”

“Tall, dark and handsome officer.”

“He knows I’m not interested.”

“You told him?”

“I did.” Candice rose from the table and collected her plate. “He wasn’t happy about it but he’ll adjust.”

It was probably stupid to ask but it was obvious Candy wasn’t telling her everything. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Will you adjust?”

Candice turned. The sadness in her eyes was almost as heartbreaking as her resolve. “I adjusted a long time ago, Lace. This is who I am.”

Lacey remained seated as her friend walked into the kitchen. It had been years since she’d seen Candy express any interest in a man, much less lose her cool over one, and Candice Bradshaw was definitely not her usual self when it came to Brady Stone.

No matter how much she might deny it.

Lacey had opened her door to walk Candice outside when she saw the strange car in her driveway. Michael was passed out behind the wheel, his head resting against the seat.

“It seems like I’m leaving just in time.” Candice chuckled and gave her a hug.

Hugging back, she muttered, “He knows he’s in the doghouse.”

“Don’t be too hard on him.” Candice pulled away and looked at the car. “It looks like he’s had a rough night.”

Jealousy reared its ugly head again. She could only imagine how rough his night with Aly had been. “I’m sure he has.”

As Candice walked to her car, Lacey strode over to Michael. When she got closer, and got a decent look at his face, her insecurities and anger faded. It looked like he’d gotten the shit beaten out of him. His nose was swollen and bruised and his lower lip was cracked right down the middle.

“Michael?” She knocked softly on the window and he opened his eyes.

He blinked several times and gazed at her. The moment recognition struck he opened the door. He seemed primed to go another round, gazing in the direction of the unknown vehicle in the driveway until he saw her visitor was Candice. The tension around his eyes softened. He waved at Candice, gazed away from her friend and gave her his undivided attention.

She reached out before she could stop herself and touched his lip. “What happened?”

“I had to break up a fight and managed to get caught in the middle of it.”

She stepped back as he climbed from the car. “You didn’t say anything about fighting. I thought you were going to the club.”

“Brian and Conner had issues to sort through.”

“So they used you as a punching bag?”

His chuckle sent a shiver down her spine. “Not exactly.”

“Are you okay?”

“I am now.”

She gasped as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into his chest. He’d recently showered. She could detect the lingering fragrance of Dial soap. Gazing up, she noticed the bristle forming along his jaw. The dark shadow added to the bruises and cuts on his face, giving him the appearance of a street brawler.

“So how’s Aly?” She wanted to cringe at the cattiness in her voice.

“You’d have to ask Brian and Trevor. I was there for moral support, not for Aly.”

“That’s not how it seemed last night.”

Michael’s face hardened. “I’m not going to apologize for helping my friends.” He glanced at Candice’s car as it vanished from the driveway. “Would you say no to yours?”

Her airway became tight. Talk about feeling lower than the low.

She hadn’t really thought about it like that.

“No, I wouldn’t.” She rested her hands on his arms. “It’s just been a rough night.”

“I second that.” He kissed her lightly, brushing his lips over hers. “I should tan your little ass for hanging up on me earlier.”