Sexual Awakenings:The Tango 2

By: Angelica Chase

For my K Bear, thanks for the corruption.

My elation from his sudden invitation was short lived by the three-letter word that followed it.


I knew he was angry. I knew I was about to pay for my lie. I knew I had hurt him and I had no idea what I was about to walk into. What I was sure of was that he wouldn’t physically hurt me.


I had so many things I wanted to say, an apology to make first and foremost. I also wanted to ask him why the club was closed. Surely, I had nothing to do with it. No, he might have been a little hurt by my actions, but something told me this was much bigger than me. And who the hell was I to think it could have anything to do with me? We’d had one day to explore our relationship further. Even then it was filled with light conversation and nothing heavy, well, except for the sex. I still didn’t know much about him, but in the time that I had known him, I knew he was a man I could fall for. And I had ruined it.

I’d been too slow in leaving my worthless husband, who was now completely out of my life, divorce pending. I had filed the day after I kicked him out. All I had to do was tell Rhys the truth. I just didn’t want to lose him. I beat myself mentally until I arrived at The Barracks. Putting my car in park, I surveyed the building, instantly on edge.

What a shit hole.

If the meeting place was any indication of the feelings he now harbored for me, I was in deep shit.


The beat down shack, known as The Barracks, was located on the outskirts of Savannah. It looked to be in shambles, resembling a hideout for crack heads, on the verge of being condemned.

I can’t go in there!

I took deep breaths, on the brink of a panic attack. What the hell was Rhys doing here? This was not his style. I was tempted to text him and call it off. Walking quickly from my car, I scanned the lot to make sure I got in safely.

Stepping into the dark bar, I saw him immediately. He was standing at the far end, and as soon as the door closed behind me, his eyes were on mine. They were as cold as ice. Sweat covered me instantly and I could feel heads turning my direction, but couldn’t tear my eyes away from Rhys. There was an electrical shift in the air then, a crackle, and it didn’t have the kind of pull that had me gravitating toward him. This was the kind that made my steps careful. I was just a few feet away from him when he turned and walked around the corner then down a flight of stairs. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I followed quietly. At the foot of the stairs, he continued walking down a dark hall with a set of rooms to the right and left. I stood behind him, silent, as he reached into his pocket. When he turned the key and walked through the door, I hesitated. He inspected the room as I quickly surveyed it. There was a large iron chandelier with cheap yellow bulbs hanging from the ceiling. Large black silk ribbons were draped from the center of it. I hadn’t noticed before that Rhys had been carrying a small black bag, which he dropped to the floor with a thud, making me jump, his back to me. He was waiting.

It was then that I understood exactly what RED meant. My Rhys was gone, and I was about to meet the version of the man that took his place.

I took a tentative step into the room and closed the door.

“Rhys, I just wanted to say I—”

He turned suddenly, taking long strides towards me, and griped my neck with one hand, nailing me to the door. I gasped in surprise; his grip was tight.

“Don’t ever call me by my name again. You will address me as sir, and I don’t want to hear a fucking word come out of your mouth. Sir or stop, that’s all you get, Mrs. Harvell.”


My limbs were shaking at the power in his voice and the weight of his words. His grip was tight, but he wasn’t cutting off circulation. He didn’t want to hurt me, and I knew that. I trusted him, though the look in his eyes was deadly. He loosened his tie, still holding my neck, keeping me pinned to the door.

He watched my chest rise and fall with interest. Using his spare hand, he pulled my sweater up and pulled down my tank top along with my bra underneath so that my breasts were supported by the material, leaving them exposed and clustered. Trailing his hand down my stomach, he unbuttoned my jeans and shoved it inside my pants as his grip tightened on my throat. I heard the sound of my arousal as he plunged his fingers inside. I was dripping. He stroked me roughly as he squeezed my neck. I screamed out when he drew two fingers up to my clit and pinched it. To my whine, he smirked. I had to keep cool; apparently, my pain fueled him. I wondered if my moans would do the same.