Endless - Manhattan Knights Series Book Three Read online

  Her gaze drops to the floor, her discomfort apparent in the shifting of her feet.

  “I need full disclosure. I can’t be your Master if you don’t trust me. I realize that you don’t know me yet, but unfortunately, in my position as a trainer rather than a long-term Dominant, I need my submissives to open up to me immediately. I know it’s a huge leap of faith at this stage, but I won’t be able to make an informed decision as to whether or not I can help you. I need you to understand that you have the power here. It is your choice entirely. You don’t have to tell me anything, and you can leave at any time with no hard feelings.”

  Her demeanor softens at my last words, and I can see the moment she decides to confide in me.

  “I had a bad experience with my previous Dominant. He made the decision for me, that I no longer needed a safe word. He…” I can see this is difficult for her. “He took too much pleasure in punishing me… a long way past my hard limits.”

  I feel so angry for this girl. Men like that give BDSM a bad name. A Dominant’s sole purpose is to ensure that his submissive is happy and healthy, satisfied and never pushed beyond what she can handle. She should have absolute control when it comes to her hard limits. Any man that doesn’t respect and honor the strength that it takes for a woman to submit herself completely, is not a true Dom.

  As a rule, I don’t train subs that look anything like Vittoria. I’ve always felt that it would be disrespectful to the woman in question, and would feel like I was betraying Vittoria somehow. A pale imitation would never satisfy me.

  I really want to help this girl get past what happened with her previous Dom, and restore her faith in our lifestyle, but she looks so much like Vittoria, it’s almost eerie.

  “I’m so sorry that you had to live through that. I can assure you, that a true Dominant would never treat you that way.” Her small smile is so endearing. I wonder if I could get past the physical similarity and train her.

  “I know, Master Fitzgerald. That’s why I’m here. I don’t want to let him win. I believe I can still find happiness with a Dom that treats me properly. I just think that I need the safety of some training to restore my confidence before I try to find a suitable long-term match.”

  “You’re a very sensible woman. I think you’re doing the right thing, and I would love to help you.”

  I see the spark in her eyes at my words, and I feel my cock hardening as I drink in the sight of her.

  “I would like to know a little more about you before we take this any further.”

  “Anything.”

  “What do you do for a living?”

  “I’m a ballerina. I’m in my final year at Julliard and I’m hoping to find a ballet company to tour with after I graduate. It’s been my dream since I was five years old.”

  My stomach drops. I know I can’t do this. I was kidding myself to think that I could. The similarities are just too much for me to get over. I scrub my hands up over my face, annoyed at myself for being so pathetic.

  “Is something wrong, Master Fitzgerald? Have I said something to upset you?”

  I stare up into her questioning eyes as I answer. Hoping that she understands that this is in no way a reflection on her.

  “I’m so sorry. I can’t train you. I would love to. You are extremely beautiful and any man in his right mind would want to explore every last inch of your gorgeous body.”

  “But…?”

  “But, you remind me too much of someone I know.”

  “Someone you loved?”

  “Something like that. Trust me when I tell you that this is all my issue. You are a lovely girl, and I know that when you find the right Dom, he will worship the ground you walk on.” I watch as her cheeks begin to blush. “I would still like to help, and if it’s ok with you, I would like to speak with some of the other Masters, discuss your situation, and choose a trainer for you that I feel would be a good match. You deserve someone that can give you the training, and attention you need to regain your confidence in yourself, and in our lifestyle. Will you let me do that for you?”

  “It’s true what they say about you, Master Fitzgerald. You really are a gentleman. Stunningly handsome, with a beautiful soul. I would be honored if you would choose a Master to train me. I won’t lie and say that I’m not disappointed. You really are even more gorgeous in the flesh. I would have relished the opportunity to submit to you.”

  “Thank you for the compliment. I don’t take any woman’s willingness to submit to me, lightly. I’m humbled. I will make the necessary arrangements, and be in touch when I’ve found someone for you to come and meet with.”

  As she stands to leave, I offer her my hand, which she grasps with both of hers, holding my gaze. “Whoever it is that I remind you of, she’s a very lucky woman. I hope she appreciates that someday.”

  “Thank you.”

  She lets go of my hand and strides out of the room, turning to give me one last smile before she leaves.

  How did I get here?

  Three women who could have been a great distraction for me. Three women who offered themselves willingly to me, and I sent all of them away. Increasingly, I’m noticing that it’s becoming more and more difficult for me to switch off and repress the feelings I have for Vittoria.

  She’s not a part of my everyday life, and yet she is.

  Ever since the last time I saw her, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. The way her body moves on stage, her smile when I make her laugh, and so many little things, too numerous to count.

  I don’t know how to get past this. The one-night stand didn’t help in the slightest. Work is a fantastic distraction, but only while I’m working. Training submissives has been my way of coping for years now, and it has served me very well up until recently, but lately, it just doesn’t hold the same satisfaction, and if I needed any more proof, then tonight has confirmed it.

  I need to find a way to get Vittoria de Rossi out of my system for good. I know that I have to cut ties with her altogether, but first, I need to get through this wedding. It’s not going to be easy knowing that she’s sleeping in a hotel room down the hall from me, and I can’t do a damn thing about it. It’s going to be fucking torture.

  I leave Andromeda feeling worse than when I arrived. I don’t think this has ever happened to me before, so from now until the wedding, I’m going to throw myself into work, teach some Master classes, and do some shibari demonstrations.

  It’s a sad realization for me, that there are two things I am passionate about in my life, both of which I have had to sacrifice and make do with an alternative. My dream was to be a musician, to sing, play guitar and write songs. My own stupidity and anger made sure that, that will never happen, and so I became an agent. I started my own label, and I make that dream come true for other people. I love what I do, but there will always be a part of me that wants more.

  I found BDSM and it let me channel all of my conflicting feelings, and become a Master of my craft. I will never regret that, but I will also never be able to share it with the one person that truly means something to me. In that respect, I will never achieve complete satisfaction as a Master. Again though, I love what I do, but a part of me will always want more.

  My life will always be a series of second choices.

  Bands, bondage, music and Master classes.

  I hate weddings. Single women are always desperate to hook up and tie you down, and not in a good way. I know the ladies love me. I’m not an ugly guy, I work out, take care of myself, and I dress well. Women are drawn to my dominant nature without realizing it, and even when I try to disguise it, it’s still there. It speaks to them on a molecular level – a deep unspoken desire to submit to a strong confident man.

  I will have no end of willing victims this weekend; easy girls that just want me to make them feel better about the fact that they’re single. And that’s the problem; it’s too easy. I like my women compliant, but I don’t want them to just give it up for nothing. I relish the seductio
n. I thrive on it. The thrill of anticipation. Making a woman so hot for me that she would do anything for my touch, my kiss, and my lips against her quivering naked flesh. I want a woman to give herself over to me completely, to do with as I please.

  It’s Xander’s wedding this weekend and we’re in Verona, Italy. The past three days have been a killer and I really need to just get the hell out of dodge already. It’s been great spending time with everyone, but it gets tiring having to put on a front for them all the time. No one knows about my… lifestyle, and it can be difficult to rein in that side of myself at times, especially around Vittoria, but people wouldn’t understand. They wouldn’t accept it.

  I met Vittoria about eight years ago when Carter invited me to spend Thanksgiving at his parent’s house, and from the moment I first laid eyes on her, I’ve wanted her. I want to fuck her, to own her, to dominate her; I want her complete and total submission to my deepest, darkest desires, and I’m also completely in love with her. That’s why I can’t be with her. She is so good and pure and innocent, and what I want from her… well, I’m aware that a girl like her does not need what I have to offer. She deserves better, she deserves the best of everything, and if I thought for a second that I could give it to her, I would have made her mine a long time ago.

  I’m not into corrupting shy inexperienced girls. I need a woman who knows her own mind, and wants to submit to my command. Vittoria could never be that woman, she’s too… perfect.

  I don’t think Carter knows how I feel about her. I’m certain if he did, I’d be buried in the woods somewhere by now. I’ve done my best to avoid her over the past few days, but it’s getting increasingly more difficult. I’m drawn to her like a moth to a flame. We hadn’t seen each other in months before she arrived in Verona. She’s been out of the country touring with a top ballet company so it made it easy to avoid her.

  Vittoria de Rossi is an angel, sent from heaven to torment what’s left of my soul. She is perfection personified; a single, exquisite rose among a bed of thorns; a beacon of light in the darkness; the only woman I have ever loved, and the only woman I can never have. She is also my best friend’s younger sister, and the reason I feel like a meteor has rocketed straight into my chest, obliterating my heart into a million fragments, scattering them across the solar system.

  I’ve been standing watching her float across the dance floor with her father, her brother, and even Xander at the reception tonight. She is awe-inspiring to watch. She lives and breathes the music, letting it flow through her, bending to its will. I don’t think I could ever tire of watching her. She looks so carefree and happy, and unbelievably beautiful; she’s enchanting.

  I’ve fought every urge I have, staying fixed to this spot, but I know now that I’m fighting a losing battle. Every time she glances in my direction, she calls to me like a siren, tempting me, and I don’t want to fight it anymore – just one dance. To hold her in my arms and feel the warmth of her body against mine, if only for a few minutes; to feel her sweet breath on my neck as we sway to the music; it’s all I can ever have from her, but I’m selfish, and I want it, no matter how badly my body will ache when I have to let her go.

  As Vittoria takes her seat, our eyes connect and I feel like my insides are on fire; adrenaline pumping hard through my veins. The DJ starts playing Just the Way You Are by Bruno Mars and before I can stop myself, I’m standing in front her; transfixed as she takes a sip of her wine, her eyes on mine as she darts the tip of her tongue out into the glass, and it is so damn sexy I feel my dick hardening. Without a word, I hold my hand out to her. As soon as her skin comes into contact with mine, the spark I felt from across the room becomes a blazing inferno of desire.

  I lead her onto the dance floor, lights twinkling all around us, the rest of the guests a distant blip on my radar. All I see is her. As we begin to move, she snakes her arms around my neck and I feel goosebumps appear on her skin. I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her body flush against mine. It’s as if she was made for me, our bodies fitting together perfectly. Every move she makes is like the sweetest form or torture I could ever endure.

  I look into her eyes as we move in time to the music, hoping she can sense just how much this song conveys my feelings for her. I can see the lust in her eyes as she presses against the evidence of my arousal; her tight body gently grinding on me. It feels phenomenal; but as I realize that this moment is about to end, along with the song, I can’t fight it anymore. I give in to every urge I have repressed for the past eight years.

  We stop moving; our eyes fixed on one another. I gently slide my arms up from her tiny waist, grazing the side of her breasts as I move my hands up to cup her angelic face in my palms, her arms sliding down my back. I savor the moment, rubbing my thumbs over her cheeks and onto her lips. Her tongue darts out to lick the tip of my thumb, the same way she did with her glass, and it’s my undoing; all control is gone as I pull her lips to mine, colliding in a cataclysmic event that will alter my heart and soul forevermore.

  Our tongues devour and explore, both rough and tender at the same time. It is everything I have ever imagined and more. The taste of her is like a hit of the finest heroine, a sip of the finest champagne. We lose ourselves in the moment, enjoying every intense and explosive second of it. My dominant nature replaced by something even more pressing, more primitive. I need her touch, her taste, more than my next breath. Nipping at her lips; tracing the lines of her mouth with my tongue; savoring every electrically charged flick, suck, and caress.

  When the music fades and the atmosphere in the room changes, I know I have to let her go, but I take one last kiss, one last chance to feel her warmth, to smell her intoxicating scent before I walk away. Breathless, I lean my forehead against hers and try to compose myself.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  I quickly make my way off the dance floor and away from her, putting as much distance as I can between us, a hole forming in my chest with every step. I stride out of the marquee, but there’s nowhere to go. L’Arena is dark and deserted as I stand in the moonlight, looking at the stars, breathing the cool night air into my lungs, contemplating all the ways I want to dominate the sweetest girl I’ve ever met; the feel of her skin seared into my brain until the end of time. I think of how amazing her elegant limbs would look spread wide on my St. Andrew’s cross, her pussy wet in anticipation of all the delights I could inflict on her. I need to get the hell out of here before I go back inside, drag her to my hotel suite and act out every last one of my fantasies with her.

  I take a moment to admire the night sky, but it pales in comparison to the sight that greets me when I look back towards the marquee. She’s standing in the entrance staring at me, the twinkling lights dancing across her flawless features, and everything else around me becomes inconsequential.

  “You need to go back inside, Vittoria. I’ve apologized for my mistake. I just need a few moments alone.”

  She ignores my request, gliding toward me, an ethereal enchantress.

  “We need to talk. We’ve needed to talk for a long time now.”

  “NO, we don’t. What happened back there… it can’t happen again. It was wrong of me to take advantage of the moment. Again, for that I apologize.”

  “You didn’t take advantage of anything.” She takes a step closer, forcing me to step back. “Why? Why can’t it happen again? I WANT it to happen.”

  The plea in her voice is killing me. My inherent nature is to give her whatever she wants, whatever she needs. I want to give her this. So badly. But I can’t.

  “Because you don’t really know me. This… us… we could never work. We want very different things. I would never ask you to change for me. You are… perfection. I would only mar that with my desires. There is a side to me that you do not want to be a part of.”

  She closes the distance between us, placing her hand over my hammering chest, her eyes locked on mine. “I know exactly who and what you are. I want what you are, I crave
what you are. It’s my deepest desire.”

  I grip her hand, desperate to claim her as my own.

  “You don’t know what you’re asking for, and I won’t tell you. I couldn’t stand for you to look at me differently if you knew the real me. It would break the only morsel of hope left in my jaded heart.”

  She removes her hand from my grasp, a permanent mark etched on my chest where her warm tender hand had been. “I think the problem here isn’t me knowing you, but you not knowing me.”

  I cut her off. “I know you. I see you in all your beauty. I see all of the intricacies that form to make you who you are, and it’s resplendent.”

  Her face looks pained as she replies. “There are things you don’t know about me. Things that no one knows about me. But you… I know you can see it. You just don’t want to admit it to yourself. If you did, there would be no reason for us to be apart. I’m not afraid of what you try to hide from everyone else. I’m not afraid of you.”

  I close the gap between us, my lips brushing against hers as I whisper my response.

  “You should be.”

  Her lips crash down on mine, unleashing all of the pent-up desire we’ve been holding back. I lift her off the ground, running my hands down her toned, slender legs, wrapping them around my waist. Her fingers twisting in my hair, pulling me closer, begging me for more. I can’t get enough. I want to taste every inch of her body.

  “Oh God, Logan. I’ve wanted this for so long. Please. I want you.”

  Hearing those words tripping off of her sweet pouty lips just fuels my desire even more. She starts ripping at my suit jacket, discarding it on the ground as I hitch up her dress to pull her tighter against my body. Her ass feels amazing, covered in the smallest scrap of lace, tantalizing my senses. My hands roam her body, memorizing every line, and every gentle curve.

  It’s not until she starts grappling with my belt buckle that my brain kicks in, and I’m horrified by my behavior. I seem to lack any level of control around her now that I’ve had a taste. It’s not in my nature to lose control. I don’t like it. I need to stop this… now.