Inside the Storm Read online

  Copyright © 2020 by MICHAEL JAMES and DANIEL GRAYSON

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  About the Authors

  Also by MICHAEL JAMES

  Also By DANIEL GRAYSON

  Rochelle

  The night is warm, but the air feels heavy. I believe a storm is brewing. What kind of storm is left unknown. I have the deepest feeling that this night is going to be a night that won’t be forgotten any time soon. I glance over my shoulder and see him in the shadows through my cigarette smoke. His cologne floats past my nose as a breeze slightly blows. I get chills. My instincts pick up. I believe the storm may have just arrived.

  I puff my cigarette and butt it out in the ashtray. I have another sip of my Martini as I stare out into the night sky. I try my hardest to forget the scent filling my senses. I was always told to avoid the storms.

  Blake

  It was just a momentary glance toward me over her shoulder, before looking away immediately, but there was something there. The slightest movement that she could not hide. Her breath held as her body locked for just a second before exhaling after she spotted me. I spent many nights in this booth, hidden from the rest of the lounge, but she was unique. Among all the other cocktail dresses, fancy hair, and fragrant perfume, she was a classic beauty who demanded more attention than the rest. I needed to make something happen.

  I kept my cool and casually waved the waiter over. Sammy was working tonight and I knew that he’d make the perfect drink for her.

  I keep my voice low as I tell the young man, “Have Sammy mix a drink for the lady sitting alone on the balcony. Tell him it’s from me and he’ll know just what she needs.”

  Slipping a folded bill low into his hand, the boy simply nods and heads back to the bar. Did she just look again? I can’t quite tell. No matter what happens, I’m not going to get too worked up. She’s going to want me. I don’t chase women.

  Rochelle

  I light another cigarette. I tend to smoke more when I am enjoying a drink. I don’t normally come here. When I go out to find a gentleman to enjoy an evening with, I tend to go to a club. I am not a rich girl who can really afford to come here. I like it here though. The view is incredible and the men smell amazing. Well, one in particular if I am being honest.

  I take a quick glance when I feel a light tap on my shoulder. Some boy sets a drink down in front of me. I ask who it’s from but he just shrugs his shoulder. I touch the drink and push it away. I don’t drink anything when I don’t know who it came from. I spin in my seat and look toward the shadow. He is gone. If the drink wasn’t from him, I don’t want it. In fact, maybe I should just go. I don’t fit in here.

  Blake

  “It’s not poison,” I say, standing to the side of her table.

  Had she turned this way she would have seen me, but I knew she’d look back over the same shoulder.

  She jumps at my unexpected presence and looks up at me. I can see her so much more clearly now than before. My expectations were not too high. In fact, I think she is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. Her pale skin is just sun-kissed enough to bring out the few freckles she has across her cheek, which she has wisely not concealed with too much makeup. A natural beauty who would leave any lesser man fumbling for words.

  “If that drink isn’t the best you’ve ever had, I’ll gladly get you another, but trust me, you’ll want to try that.”

  “And what if I refuse?” she asks, taking another puff from her cigarette.

  I’m about to answer with some witty reply when I see the bruise on her wrist. My heart melts at the thought of anyone hurting this sweet young woman, but then, another thought comes to mind. She did nothing to hide it. I’ve seen women in abusive relationships before, and they conceal the bruises. She wears hers like a bracelet. Her other wrist is bruised too, just not as obviously. It almost looks like… she was tied up.

  I realized that I’d started replying to her question, but got hung up on my words, and there is a devilish smile in the corner of her mouth. I’ll be damned. She got me.

  “If you refuse,” I finally say, “Then you’ll be missing out on the perfect drink.”

  Rochelle

  Damn it, his very blue eyes catch my wrist. I forgot to wear long sleeves. To be honest, I didn’t have a fancy dress that had long sleeves. I should have covered the bruises with makeup. I get chills just thinking about how the marks on my wrists got there. I should run out of here as fast I can in the three-inch heels I wore. I don’t belong here. I am on the wrong side of town. But damn, his voice is manly and his smell is so darn strong. I squeeze my thighs together. ‘Run, damn it, Rochelle,’ my voice screams inside my head. A man such as him isn’t going to want a girl like me. I am not rich like the others here. I make money doing things I don’t want to do to survive. The marks on my wrists are proof of that.

  “I can’t accept your drink,” I say. I see his shoulders drop. “At least not without knowing your name first.”

  Blake

  “I don’t know your name yet either,” I reply with a raised eyebrow. “I don’t know if that would be fair. How about this – you try just a sip of the drink, and if it isn’t the most amazing cocktail you’ve ever had, I’ll tell you my name. If I am right, and you love it, then you’ll have to give me your name first.”

  She gives me a quizzical look as she considers my offer. I can see her teetering right on the edge and know I might lose her, but this game is far too exciting not to keep playing the hand.

  Without saying a word, and without ever looking away from my eyes, she reaches back and brings the glass to her lips. She takes a very small, ever so ladylike sip, and her eyes close involuntarily.

  “Mmmmmmmm,” she lets out before her eyes open and her cheeks turn red with an adorable blush.

  “I guess I can’t say I didn’t like it,” she laughs as she takes another sip. “What is it?”

  “No clue,” I answered her honestly. “I know a guy who has a gift. He never lets me down.”

  I can still see her nerves at work. It’s as if there is something tied to her, pulling her forward out of her seat and toward the exit.

  “You look lovely,” I tell her. “You don’t look like most of the women I see come in here. You are genuine. It is so refreshing. My name is Blake. What’s yours?”

  Her nerves seem to relax some when I offer my name, despite having won the wager. I still need to know how she got those bruises, but I keep my eyes on hers. If I play my cards right now, I might be able to find out soon enough.

  Rochelle

  “Blake, I like that name.” I am just about to ask him what he would like my name to be, but I stop the words from leaving my tongue by li
cking my lips. I offer a soft smile before I crack. “My name is Rochelle. As much as I would love to finish this drink, I think I should go.”

  “Rochelle,” he says, with a sexy tone, “I think that is the last thing you should do. In fact, there’s a dance floor and I’d love for you to dance with me.”

  Oh no, I cannot allow that to happen. You never get into the arms of the storm. You never allow the lightning to strike first. I need to get out of here. I never should have let it get this far. How am I going to get away from him?

  Blake

  “What would it take to make you stay?” I ask.

  That is as close to begging as I get and I feel a little foolish even going that far. As far as I am concerned, I’m acting like a love-struck boy seeing the beauty of a woman for the first time. In a sense though – I am. This woman is nothing like any other I’ve ever met. There is a confidence to her, but it is tied up in some kind of insecurity that’s trying to pull her away from me. I see a playful smile and fearful eyes as though she is giving me two completely different responses to my question and I am genuinely confused.

  “What do you mean?” she asks, sliding her hand near her arm so that her hand covers her wrist.

  Could she be? The sexy dress… the bruises… her fear mixed with a playful allure. I can’t ask, but if I am right, I may have just offended her. If she thinks I know, I just offered something I never intended. I need to clear that up before she can respond. If she refuses, I am an asshole and if she accepts, I have a very difficult choice that I’d rather not have to make.

  I speak as quickly as the words come to mind. “Can I buy you another drink? If you’d rather not dance, could we at least sit and talk. I’ve only just met the loveliest woman, and I feel as though it would be a crime to let her walk away now. Besides, if you leave too soon, you’ll offend Sammy.”

  Her expression changes altogether and she looks quite confused as she asks, “Who’s Sammy?”

  I point to the bartender who offers a wave. “Sammy made you that incredible drink and would think you didn’t like it if you left now.”

  She continues to look at me with confusion for a moment and then breaks out in laughter. Her walls fall and I feel my own body relax. She’s not going anywhere. Now – to find out who this woman really is. I still need to know about those bruises. I have my suspicions, but I still find it hard to believe that she’s a working girl with her looks. She’s too pure and innocent. She looks more like a kindergarten teacher than… well, than whatever I think she might be based on her previous reaction.

  I wave to Sammy who knows that we need two more perfect drinks and settle in. I can feel the electricity between us, something akin to a brewing storm. A storm is good. I hope we get caught in a storm and have to shelter together for the night so I can learn first hand what secrets that feigned shyness was trying to hide. I can sense my body urging me in that direction, but there is restraint as well. Unfamiliar restraint as another emotion seeks to ground my desire. What was it about this girl that hooked me so quickly and had me moving more cautiously than I ever had before? Whatever it was – I needed more!

  Blake now wants to talk instead of dance? I shift in my seat nervously. I just can’t help but feel like I’m falling deeper into a hole that I may not be able to get out of. I am not good at talking. I don’t know how to carry on a decent conversation. Most of the men I am with only want one thing and it has nothing to do with me using my voice, except when it is for a moan or the use of their names.

  Standing from the barstool, I do the only thing I can think of, I take his hand. He glanced down at our entwined fingers, or is it my wrist he’s examining? He looks me in the eyes. His very blue ones are silently asking me about the bruises. I smile to distract him, then give him a slight tug. He stood and winked at me before leading me to the dance floor. Putting his hand on my bare back, he pulls me into his firm frame. and I put my arms around his broad shoulders. My nose is right there next to his shirt collar. I inhale his scent. It is so much better mixed with his flesh. I close my eyes and just take in every second of being in a real gentleman’s embrace. Is it wrong to want something this good? Am I fooling myself into believing he is different from the others?

  I blink my eyes open. The strobe lights flash. I take that as a sign. Thunder rolled in first and the lightning was about to strike. I have to get out of here. I push out of Blake’s embrace without an explanation and run toward the exit. I couldn’t even look at him one last time. I hope he gets the hint and leaves me alone. Even though deep down inside that’s not what I really wish.

  When I get outside, I round the corner of the country club and run toward the beach instead of staying out front where I could get a cab. I am scared that if I do stop running for even a split second to wave down a cab, he’ll be there to stop me from leaving altogether. I am afraid that I just may let him. Getting messed up with Blake would not be smart for me. Hell, going to that place was not the brightest idea I have ever had. I wanted, just for one night, to be someone other than myself. I am so damn tired of being me. I want out of this life that I live. I am so very exhausted of being a toy instead of being someone’s everything. I don’t even know what it’s like to be loved. Is there such a thing as true love? I don’t even remember what it is like to have a boyfriend. I haven’t had one of those in fifteen years.

  When it feels like I’ve put enough distance between us, I stop running. Blake probably didn’t chase me anyway. He’d be a fool if he did, and I don’t see him as being a fool. Rich maybe, but a fool - no way. Men like him don’t date women like me. I am not the type of girl to take home to meet the parents if you know what I mean. What I do for a living, isn’t anything to brag about. Men buy me for sex at what is supposed to only be a strip club. If a man is looking for excitement or an escape, they may splurge and buy me for a night of sex. My wrists are proof that I’m the ultimate fantasy, but that’s all I am good for.

  Glancing back at the distant lights of the country club, I realized that I left my purse behind. I then plop down in the sand, forgetting my ass is still sore from the night before. Without my purse or phone, I have no way of getting home. I can’t call for a cab or even call Renee for a ride. What the hell am I going to do now?

  The tears begin to flow and I hang my head in my hands. More than likely my mascara is leaving ugly black streaks down my cheeks. I am sure I look like a hot mess. That’s what I get for not listening. The warnings were there and this is punishment for being a stupid girl. I reach up and take the fancy hair comb that I bought at the thrift shop this morning out of my hair, then throw it. I hope it gets buried in the sand somewhere. I laugh out loud, knowing I just threw my rent money away. I wasted money. I have no idea how I am going to cover it either. I probably have missed calls or texts from someone who wanted me for a night. I could have made up the loss tonight, but no, I had to be careless and reckless. I had to be someone I am not.

  “Stupid, stupid girl, Rochelle,” I say to no one but myself.

  I fell back into the sand and stared up at the dark sky. How did I get here? Dumb question when I already know the answer. When I was only fifteen, I ran away from home. I thought I was smarter than my father and knew that the big, bad world couldn’t be worse than living with him. He’d raised his hand to me many times and that night, it was for the last time. I ran from the home he provided with just ten dollars in my pocket. When I got on a bus, I went as far from home as I could. When I stepped off the bus on the strip, I was overwhelmed. I was not used to the bright neon lights or the crowded streets, but with no money left, I couldn’t go back home even if I’d wanted to. So, I wandered the street lost and hungry for two days. One day I was walking the streets when I bumped into a man. That was when I met Randy Washburn. He took one look at me and handed me a business card before walking off. I wandered into his place shortly after, not knowing what I was getting myself into. Randy offered me some food and a place to sleep that night. When the next morning came, he
said I could stay. Staying meant I had to work for food and a place to sleep. I started out cleaning the rooms. Once I hit eighteen, the situation changed. He came to me and told me that I was bought. It was time for me to become a woman. I knew what that meant. I didn’t like it, but it was time for me to grow up. I couldn’t live in the basement forever. I needed my own space. I couldn’t pay rent on the money I made cleaning rooms at Randy’s strip club. That is how I ended up here. That is how I became the ultimate submissive fantasy.

  I sit up and remove my shoes. I hear thunder closing the distance. The warnings are all around me, telling me I fucked up tonight. My friend Renee always told me being someone I am not will cause the biggest storm of my life. What she meant was that I should never get close to my regulars. They are not going to save me. We are just the girls that satisfy men’s sexual needs when they can’t get it at home from their wives or girlfriends. How many women do you know that like being dominated? Maybe more than we all know, they are probably just too scared to say they want it. Men love it. They get off on treating you as if you are the helpless little girl that needs their guidance. Men love the control, that is why we get tied up and punished for being naughty. Meeting Blake tonight is no different than those other men. He’s not going to save me. Renee is right, I cannot allow him to be a storm in my damaged life.