One Night Only: An After Dark Standalone in The Extravagant Series

by Lauren Blakely

  I’m close, I’d tell her.

  And I am so damn close.

  So close that she’d let go of my shaft, part her lips, and ask for it.

  Sparks run roughshod over my skin, my balls tingle, and pleasure blasts through me as I come all over Ivy’s lips, watching her lick every last drop.

  I shudder, slamming a hand against the tiled wall, breathing hard, wishing this relief got her out of my system.

  But nothing has extradited that woman from my thoughts.

  Nothing whatsoever.

  And I’m going to need to figure out what the hell to do about it.

  I read the summary of activities from all our current clients. I meet with new ones. I sign deals for my firm.

  I work out. I practice martial arts. I see my father.

  And I work by Ivy’s side every damn night.

  I want to say it’s getting easier, but that’d be a terrible lie.

  Especially when we meet with the security team to discuss the staffing needs for Stone’s upcoming show.

  The entire time I keep thinking of thirty days ago when he was in town.

  What that fateful meeting at Speakeasy led to. To Ivy kissing me, and me kissing Ivy, and to us finally having each other.

  To all the admissions of our desires.

  I flashback to that night, the things I confessed. How I told her she’s the one I think of. How she told me the same.

  When the meeting ends, I’m off for the rest of the day before my personal shift with Ivy, so I head to meet my father for his favorite thing.

  Mini-golf.

  “Some men look forward to golf courses during retirement. I look forward to windmills and clowns on the final hole,” he says, handing me a club.

  “I, for one, approve of your choice,” I tell him. “Plus, it doesn’t take all day. I can get back to work sooner.”

  “All work and no play,” he chides as he sets down an orange ball on the first hole.

  “I play plenty.”

  He turns to me, laughing. “Bullshit.”

  I hold up my hands in surrender. “Fine, you’re right. But tell me what’s up with you.”

  That distracts him for a few holes as he shares the latest on his friends, guys he’s known his whole life, but by the fifth one, he shoots me a knowing look. “What’s going on? You’re out of sorts. You never chat this much.”

  “So chatting means something is wrong?”

  He nods. “With you it does.”

  I heave a sigh, drag a hand over my hair, and decide the last thirty days of denial are catching up with me. Besides, my dad worked in this business before me. He knows the demands better than anyone. “There’s a woman . . .”

  “Ah,” he says with a nod. “There’s always a woman when a man is out of sorts.”

  “Generally speaking.”

  “What’s the trouble?”

  “I work with her. And you know the golden rule. If you can’t do a job at one hundred percent, don’t do it at all. There is too much risk.”

  “That does sound like something I’d say,” he says lightly. Then his smile erases itself, and his lips are ruler-straight. “Are you doing your job at less than one hundred percent?”

  “No, sir,” I say, since old habits die hard. Calling him “sir” when he goes deadly serious is one of those habits.

  “Then maybe you’re looking at the risk the wrong way,” he says, and places the ball on the green, then delivers a hole in one, leaving me to ponder the real risks.

  A few days later, Stone calls as I finish a workout.

  “You ready for me to blow your mind this weekend?” he asks when I answer on my way out of the gym in my building.

  “You’re blowing my mind? I guess I missed that memo,” I say, deadpan.

  “Please. I blow everyone’s mind. Sometimes I blow other things too,” he says offhand.

  I laugh as I head down the hall to the stairwell. “Yes, you’ve told me that on many occasions,” I say dryly. Stone’s preferences are not secret. Not to anyone. He came out to me as bisexual in high school, then to his fans way back when he was playing in indie clubs in the Bay Area. The man has always been down the middle as far as I can tell, picking whoever or whatever suits him in the moment. He’s had as many boyfriends as girlfriends, and both men and women make him happy.

  “Anyway, don’t distract me from my reason for calling.”

  “Hello? I think you were distracting yourself,” I say, laughing at my friend.

  “True, true. I was. I do that sometimes.” He takes a long breath. “So, the good news is my album is done, done, done. Finito. It’s insanely amazing.”

  “That is excellent news. I’m stoked for you, man.”

  “And the other good news is . . . I want to take you and Ivy out to say thank you. You up for that? A night on the town after the show?”

  I tense, my muscles going tight. “I don’t know. I can ask her though.”

  “Oh, shit,” he says, lingering on that four-letter word like it has ten syllables. “You messed up, didn’t you?”

  “What?” I ask as I head up the first set of stairs to my condo.

  “You messed it all the way up.”

  “I did not.”

  “You slept with her, but you’re not with her?”

  He’s like an oracle. He knows everything.

  “I can’t be with her, Stone.”

  “Ooh, then how about I take her out without you? Bet I could show her a good time.”

  I burn with jealousy. “Do not take her out without me.”

  He cackles. “You asshole. You’re, like, in love with her a million ways to Sunday. You have never gone so gaga over a woman as you have with her.”

  I grit my teeth, biting out a reply. “I work for her. I have to do my job.”

  “Job, schmob. You love her, and it ain’t getting easier working for her.”

  I stop on the landing, leaning against the concrete wall. “Look, Stone. My feelings for her don’t matter. This is a black-and-white situation. I have to protect her, and I can’t make a mistake,” I say, but even as the words come out, I wonder if I have already made one. If I made the mistake the night I left her place and said we couldn’t go there again.

  If I’ve assumed the wrong risks, like my dad said.

  “Your feelings for her are the only things that matter,” Stone says, then a voice calls out to him. “Be right there, Candi Kane.” Then to me, he adds, “Listen, I need to go. My publicist wants to talk about the show and all sorts of cool placements she’s getting. And you, my man—you better make yourself available to hang. Because I am taking you and your woman out after the show. Now, go get your shit together. K, thanks. Bye.”

  He hangs up, and I’m left staring at the empty screen, wondering what the hell to do next.

  The answer is a little more clear the next night when I escort Ivy through the casino on her way to a final meeting with the event staff in thirty minutes. Along the way, her attention snags on Speakeasy.

  The couple she spotted the night Stone was in town are there again. The redhead and her men.

  And Ivy can’t look away.

  “Let’s get a drink,” she says, mesmerized.

  And I say yes.

  Because I need to get to the bottom of her fascination with those three.

  11

  Callum

  I guide her to the same booth we occupied the last time. The same bartender is here. Henry tips his chin in our direction and hurries over. Ivy is her usual warm and bighearted self, flashing him a smile. “Good evening, Henry. How are you tonight?”

  Henry smiles, clearly pleased that the boss lady remembers his name, especially since he’s not wearing a name tag tonight. “I’m terrific; thanks for asking. Would you like a Long-Distance Lover again, or can I interest you in another drink?”

  Ivy taps her chin, glancing at the drink board, furrowing her brow. “Hmm. What do I want?”

  That’s my cue, because I can rec
all her words perfectly. Will you order for me? I don’t want to have to think.

  “I bet she’d like a Sweet Fate,” I say, and she nods, whispering a thank you just for me.

  “And for you, sir?”

  “I’m going to go crazy again and have an iced tea,” I say, since I’m still on the clock.

  He tells us he’ll be right back, and when he’s gone, I turn to the woman I can’t get out of my mind. The woman whose mind I need to know.

  “Tell me, are you stressed about tomorrow night?”

  She nibbles on the corner of her lips and glances at the redhead, then back to me. “Yes, a little.” She sighs heavily. “Okay, that’s a lie. A lot.” She taps her fingernails on the table. “I want it to go so well, Callum. Most of the board members are coming. So much is riding on this.”

  I shouldn’t do this, but the need to touch her, to comfort her is overwhelming. I run a hand along her back, and it seems to calm her. I can feel her relaxing as I talk. “It will. I know my team has done everything on the security side. I know you’ve done everything on the marketing side. And Stone’s music is incredible. It’s going to be great.”

  She nods several times, but it’s like she’s reassuring herself. “I know, I know.”

  She arches against my hand, asking for more. I rub a little harder. And yet, she’s still looking at the trio. They aren’t quite as touchy-feely as last time, but there’s something content, almost glowy, in the woman’s expression.

  Ivy can’t look away. She stares unabashedly as I run my hand along the fabric of her dress. She licks her lips, and her breath hitches.

  Ah, hell.

  There are risks you take and risks you protect others from taking. I’ve got to do something. “You’re watching them, beautiful,” I whisper, taking a step toward risk.

  She nods subtly, then murmurs, “Yes.”

  It sounds like a confession.

  And I’m going to enjoy all the sins she wants to share. I want to be the one she confesses to. I slide my hand lower, to the small of her back. “What do you think they just did?”

  “They fucked her.”

  Whoa. This woman. She does not mince words.

  “Made her feel dirty, gave her what she wants,” she adds, her eyes a little glassy, her voice rich with intoxication.

  I adjust myself in the seat. This conversation is quickly sending all the blood in my body in one direction. South.

  “And did she love it?” I ask.

  Ivy nods vigorously. “She loves it when they take care of her. When all their focus is on her. She’s greedy, and she needs it from them,” Ivy says, licking her lips.

  And suddenly, my mission has become crystal clear.

  Henry swings by with the drinks, and Ivy tears her gaze away from the trio, tapping her nails on the table again.

  “Your drinks, Ms. Carmichael and Mr. . . .” he trails off, since he doesn’t know my name.

  Hardly anyone does.

  That’s the point.

  “Thanks, Henry,” I say, since I prefer not to be known.

  “You’re welcome, sir.”

  I smile at that. But in the meantime, Ivy’s tapping her nails faster, worrying at her lips with her teeth.

  When he leaves, I set a hand over Ivy’s, trying to settle her. “Relax. Tomorrow will be great. Your parents would be proud of you. I’m proud of you.”

  She looks at me, her blue eyes big and vulnerable. “Thank you. For knowing what I need.”

  And the thing is, I do know what she needs. I think I know what she needs better than anyone. And what she wants too.

  Stone’s words of wisdom echo in my head, right along with Dad’s. But it’s my heart that’s taking over with its wild beating. The way I feel for her is almost too much to handle. It’s staggering, and I want to give her everything she needs and deserves. I cover her hand completely with mine, and she lets out a sigh, then takes a drink.

  I do the same and move closer, my lips near her ear. “I know what you need, beautiful. You need what they have.”

  With a quiet gasp, she turns to me, her blue eyes blazing. “Why do you say that?”

  I slide my fingers through hers. “Every day you worry about living up to the legacy of your parents. Every day you want to make sure you’re doing right for the people who work for you. But there’s only one thing that makes you let go at the end of the hard day behind the desk. I could give you something to look forward to tomorrow night. Something that’ll help you let go.”

  A flush crawls above her breasts, up her chest. “What’s that?” Excitement drips from her words.

  I run my fingers through hers, slowly, torturously. “After the show,” I say, taking my time, setting the stage, savoring the wild passion in her eyes, “why don’t I arrange for two men to give you all your filthiest fantasies?”

  There’s a second where maybe, just maybe, I’m worried I’ve crossed a line.

  But the look in her eyes tells me the opposite. Tells me I just offered Ivy her deepest, dirtiest dreams. And the way my dick throbs tells me that I want nothing more than to give her all she desires.

  “How do you know I want that?” she asks, but she’s not questioning me. Her tone is laced with longing.

  “I watch you. I see what you want. And I’ve fucked you and made love to you. I know what you want. And I don’t want you going to anyone else to get it.”

  As I say those words, my choices start to crystallize. I’m going to be the one who takes care of her needs. All her needs. No one else. I don’t trust a soul with this woman but me, and my best friend.

  “I don’t want to go to anyone else, Callum.”

  “You need to be safe. A woman like you, beautiful, wealthy, known all around this city—you’re not going to go out and find just anyone. If you want a threesome, I’ll make it happen for you, and I’ll make it safe for you. I’ll make sure you’re protected, because that’s what I do.”

  She looks me in the eyes. “You and Stone?”

  I smile. “I’ll have to ask him, but I feel confident he’ll say yes,” I say with a laugh.

  She laughs too. “Because he has a voracious appetite?”

  I shake my head. “No, because he gets along with you. Because he likes you as a person. But more than that, because I’ll tell him what it means to me. That I need to keep you safe while you live out your fantasy. That’s why he’ll do it.”

  Her brow pinches a little bit. “You’re not interested in touching him, are you?”

  I shake my head. “Beautiful, I’m not interested in men. The only pleasure I’m interested in is yours. In giving it to you. In realizing it for you. But I don’t give a shit if another guy’s in the room when I’m fucking you, or when I’m making love to you. Because all he’s going to see is a man who wants to take care of the woman he’s obsessed with.”

  She trembles all over, and it’s gorgeous. “You’re obsessed with me?”

  “Ivy Carmichael, I want you in every way. I want you more than any man has ever wanted any woman. And all I want is to give you everything.”

  “Oh, God,” she murmurs, her eyes floating closed for a second.

  I’m so tempted to haul her in close. To plant a bruising, punishing kiss on her lips. To take her upstairs and spend the night bringing her endless pleasure. But she has late-night meetings, and I have to get her there safely.

  I brush her hair off her shoulder. “Think about it. Say the word, and I will make it happen for you.”

  She grabs my tie, tugging me close. “I have to go. I don’t want to go.”

  “I don’t want you to go either.”

  I don’t know what happens after tomorrow night. I don’t know what it might mean for the two of us.

  But I know this much. I need to be the man to make her fantasies come true.

  So, I’m going to have to figure out what that means when it comes to my ability to do my job.

  Because she is so much more than work to me.

  12
<
br />   Stone

  Like I’d say no.

  As requests go, this one is simple.

  Of all the things people ask me for each day, this is the easiest.

  I slap a palm on the table.

  “Hell yeah,” I say over sushi lunch the next day as Callum lays it out for me.

  He laughs, leaning back in his chair. “You’re so easy, Stone.”

  “Damn straight.” I raise my arms in a victory salute. “I am as easy as Sunday morning. Also, do you realize this makes me the luckiest bastard ever? I’m playing a show and I’m having a fiesta tonight.”

  Callum rolls his eyes as he picks up a slice of yellowtail with his chopsticks. “Yes, the Ivy fiesta.” His emphasis on Ivy does not go unnoticed.

  I scoff, then drink some green tea. “Dude, I know it’s all about her. Also, no offense, but I am not attracted to you.”

  “Um, none taken.”

  I wave a hand at him. “I mean, you’re a catch. And you’re handsome AF, if you’re into the whole six-foot-four broody, muscular look,” I say, my eyes drifting briefly to Jackson, who’s standing watch at the entrance to the restaurant. I shoot him a wink, just to mess with him. He’s impervious, his lips fixed in a straight line, his hazel eyes unreadable. Well, he is wearing shades. I waggle my chopsticks in the air. “I mean, some people are into that whole big, burly look.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that backhanded compliment. And I hope you know I’m not the kind of asshole who assumes you’d be attracted to me just because I have a dick.”

  “What? You have a dick?”

  “And you’re the asshole,” Callum mutters, but he’s laughing.

  “Don’t you know I’m attracted to everything with a dick?” I say in a tone dripping with mockery.

  “And everything with tits too,” he adds, and we both have a laugh at the assumptions people make about sexuality that doesn’t fit into a neat, straight compartment. I’m damn grateful that Callum, straight-as-an-arrow Callum, is woke to all the nuances.

  “Anyway, tonight is about her. Only her.”