by Raine Miller
She laughed, because lately, there was absolutely nothing mundane or vanilla about her husband and sex. And tonight, he’d provided a way to push sexual limits without compromising the integrity of their marriage in any way.
She rolled to her side so that she was facing him, so that she could finally put her hands on his muscled chest and touch him. “Maybe we can come back and try one of those themed rooms we saw, like the one with the jail cell, and you can dress up as a cop with handcuffs and do all kinds of naughty things to me.”
Her suggestion made him chuckle. “Damn, I can hardly wait.”
CHAPTER 5
“I’d like to welcome Jillian Noble to our Cocktails and Cocks Club, and monthly get together,” Raina announced, and raised her lemon drop martini in a toast to their newest member.
Paige, who was wearing a sexy black satin and lace corset and black jeans that accentuated her voluptuous curves, grinned her approval. “And our first married member at that. Considering she just celebrated her twentieth anniversary, we all might learn a thing or two from her.”
Jillian laughed and clinked her glass with the other women who were sitting in Raina’s living room, all close friends based on their separate businesses that each one of them helped to promote and support. “Thank you all for the invite. I’m happy to be a part of such an exclusive, private group,” she teased, and took a drink of her lemon drop martini, which went down as smooth as sweetened lemonade.
“There’s not many women we’d allow to join Cocktails and Cocks, but we all agree that you’re a great fit.” This came from Kendall, the woman who’d taken the gorgeous boudoir photographs of Jillian for Dean’s anniversary gift.
“This is true,” Stephanie chimed in, the owner of Fantasy Bedrooms, a business that specialized in creating bedrooms and playrooms that were intimate, sexy, and fun. “Not only have you become a valued customer for each one of us, but you’ve become a trusted friend, too. That doesn’t happen very often. In fact, you’re the first person we’ve asked to join us since we started the club three years ago.”
“Thank you,” Jillian said, truly flattered. Every one of these women had played a part in helping her to spice up her sex life with Dean, and she was grateful to be able to call them all friends. And this fun club, and this girl-time, was exactly what she needed to relieve some of the restlessness and boredom she was experiencing lately — especially on those nights when Dean worked late, or when he went on a business trip.
She licked a bit of sugar from the rim of her martini glass, her curiosity getting the best of her. “So, I get the cocktail part of your club’s name, but why cocks?”
“Because we love everything about them,” Summer, Paige’s assistant, said, her eyes alight with a naughty gleam. “Unfortunately, we’re all going through a dry spell right now, so it’s nice to have a friend who can supply us all with the silicone, vibrating kind in the meantime.”
“And I do have quite the selection,” Raina said proudly of her varied selection of dildos at Sugar and Spice. “But as we all know, nothing compares to the feel and thrusting power of the real deal. So yes, we’re all insanely jealous that you’re getting cock on a regular basis.”
Paige finished the rest of her drink and gave Jillian a pointed looked. “We’re also insanely jealous that you got an invitation to The Players Club.”
Jillian’s mouth opened, then closed again, and she glanced at Raina, the only person she’d confided in about her trip to the private sex club. “You told her?” she asked, feeling her face flush now that her secret was out.
“Wow, twenty years of marriage and you still blush,” Stephanie said, laughing. “I bet Dean loves that.”
“Sorry.” Raina gave her an impish smile that was far from contrite. “It’s a hazard of being a part of this group. We share everything and there are no sexual secrets between us. We bare it all, so to speak, and now that you’re a sworn in member of Cocktails and Cocks, you’re obligated to share all the details with us.”
“Yes, you have to let us live vicariously through you.” Eyes wide with curiosity, Summer sat forward on the couch, waiting anxiously to hear everything.
“I think a cocktail refill is in order to loosen up that tongue of yours,” Paige said, and poured another round of lemon drop martinis from the pitcher on the coffee table. “I want to know if the guys there are hot, and if they have big cocks.”
Jillian laughed, quickly getting used to Paige’s outrageous mouth. “Oh, yeah, most of them are hung like stallions.” Obviously, the alcohol was making her equally outrageous.
Stephanie gaped at her. “Seriously?!”
Jillian figured it was her job to provide a very titillating and provocative mental image for her friends to enjoy. “The guys are gorgeous. Complete, panty-wetting studs.” And if she was talking about Mac, Logan, Sawyer, and her husband, it was the truth. All four men were worthy of that description.
Raina touched the back of her hand to her forehead and feigned a swoon. “Oh, be still my heart. It’s been a helluva long time since any man has made my panties wet, and that’s truly saying something for a woman who owns a sex shop.”
“We all need cock,” Stephanie declared, and everyone burst out laughing and toasted to the sentiment.
“Tell us more,” Summer said to Jillian, her tone eager.
“Well, the mansion is huge and elegant, with all sort of kinky themes and offerings,” Jillian went on as she sipped her second lemon drop. “You can watch, or be watched. There are orgies if that’s your thing, a dungeon with hardcore BDSM, or private rooms where you can fulfill your own daring fantasies. The place is decadent, that’s for sure.”
“I’m emerald-green with envy,” Raina said on a sigh.
“Hey, Jillian, I want to ask you something important,” Stephanie said, changing the subject for the moment. “And I think right here in front of my very best friends is the best place to do it.”
She seemed so serious, and Jillian wasn’t sure what was about to come her way, especially when the rest of the group had grown so quiet. “Sure. What’s up?”
“Remember when I told you a few weeks ago that I was contracted for a huge job to decorate and design some fantasy suites for a privately owned hotel?”
Jillian nodded. She’d been thrilled to hear the news, and very happy for Stephanie who’d helped Jillian create a sultry, romantic playroom for her and Dean to enjoy. The woman had an eye for interior design, and coupling that with sexier, more dramatic elements made for some very erotic concepts that had garnered her awards along with a very exclusive, wealthy clientele. Just recently one of her fantasy bedrooms had been featured in Romantic Homes Magazine, which had increased her exposure.
“Well, I’ve been doing everything myself for years, trying to get to the point where the business is financially secure and I’ve made a name for Fantasy Bedrooms, and I’m finally there,” Stephanie went on, her tone both excited and a bit nervous. “I’m at the point where I need help with the designing, especially now with the hotel contract I just signed, and I want someone I trust and who knows and understands my esthetic.”
“I’m really sorry, but I don’t know anyone who has interior design experience,” Jillian said, feeling bad that she wasn’t able to offer better resources.
Stephanie gave her a lop-sided smile, her eyes glimmering with humor. “That’s good, because I want to hire you as my assistant designer. If you’re interested.”
“Me?” She stared at the other woman in shock, certain she misunderstood. “Are you serious? I don’t have any interior design experience.”
“Sometimes, it’s not about experience,” Stephanie shrugged. “Sometimes it’s purely gut instinct and the ability to bring a creative vision to life.”
Jillian shook her head, still not convinced. “What makes you think I have that kind of ability?”
“I’ve seen your gorgeous, custom-built home, which you decorated all on your own,” Stephanie said, clearly having thought
this through. “And you did an amazing job on the playroom. I really was just a consultant who helped with a few things. The design and color scheme was all your idea.”
“Oh, wow.” Jillian’s heart was pounding crazily in her chest, an adrenaline rush of excitement she couldn’t deny. Stephanie was offering her the chance to be a part of something big and meaningful, something she’d thoroughly enjoy that would get her out of the house and provide her with that daily stimulation she desperately craved.
She couldn’t believe this opportunity had come her way at just the right time, and she was floored, and flattered, that Stephanie had that kind of faith in her. She really wanted to try this, to test the waters . . . she needed this.
The only obstacle standing in her way was convincing Dean. Easier said than done, she knew, and hated the twist of anxiety knotting in her stomach. She never thought of herself as the type of woman who needed her husband’s approval to do anything, but ultimately she wanted his blessing and support, and she honestly wasn’t sure if it would happen. She didn’t want to hurt him, but she desperately needed this creative outlet for herself.
“You do know that we’re all waiting anxiously for you to answer and say yes, so we can celebrate with another drink, right?” Raina said, giving her a well-meaning nudge.
Jillian glanced around the room, at all the women she now called friends. When she’d told Dean about joining the girls for their get-together, he’d been indulgent. Had even encouraged her to go out and have fun. But accepting a job offer . . . that was something else entirely, because she knew the emotional issues that came with her husband coming to terms with his wife working. He viewed himself as the male, the provider and protector, everything his father had never been, and she understood her husband well enough to know that he’d equate her need for more as a failure on his part.
She and Dean had never had a real issue or bone of contention in their marriage, a conflict that would cause a huge argument or fight. Jillian knew with every fiber of her being that telling her husband she was going to work outside of the house would be the impetus for their first major battle of wills.
But even with that knowledge, she wasn’t about to back down from the one thing she’d ever wanted just for herself . . . even if that meant forcing her husband to face some of his deepest fears.
“Yes, I would love to be your assistant designer,” Jillian said, wishing she could commit one hundred percent to Stephanie’s offer and celebrate the exciting changes to come. “But I do need to talk to Dean first.”
Stephanie grinned. “Do whatever it takes to persuade your husband, because I desperately need you.”
“Blow jobs are the best way to get a man to say yes to anything,” Raina said, as if she’d had experience in the matter. “We’re counting on you to make it happen, Jillian.”
She laughed and assured them that she’d do her part, but she was already dreading the conversation, and the argument, to come.
***
Jillian paced anxiously in her bedroom, trying to gather the fortitude to walk into Dean’s office down the hall where he was finishing up details on an important client presentation, and tell him about her job offer.
The timing certainly wasn’t ideal. Then again, when it came to Dean, there would never be a good time to discuss her desire to go to work for Stephanie. But with him leaving in the morning for a week long business trip to New York, she needed to broach the subject with him so she could get back to Stephanie with a firm answer.
Exhaling a deep breath and shaking off her nerves, she headed determinedly to his office and knocked on the open door. As soon as he glanced up from the paperwork spread out on his desk, she spoke. “I know you’re busy, but can I have a few minutes to talk to you?”
“Sure,” he said, just as she knew he would, though his brows furrowed in concern as he watched her walk into the room. “Everything okay?”
“Everything is fine,” she assured him, and sat down in one of the leather club chairs in front of his desk. Her husband was a man who appreciated a direct approach, so she didn’t waste time trying to couch her words. “Stephanie, the woman who helped me design and decorate the playroom, offered me a job as her assistant designer.”
“Oh.” He leaned back in his chair, the flicker of surprise she initially saw in his gaze quickly replaced by a schooled expression that masked his emotions. “That was nice of her.”
She heard the placating note to his voice, and didn’t miss the way he deliberately avoided the crux of her statement, that she’d been offered a job. She hadn’t interrupted him to make small talk, and her very sharp and intelligent husband knew it, too. He was playing it cool and not jumping to any conclusions. Either that or he was mentally preparing an argument as to why she didn’t need to work.
She suspected the latter.
“I’d like to accept her offer,” she said point-blank, so there was no misconstruing what this conversation was about.
“Why?” His brusque tone was underscored with a hint of agitation. “You don’t need to work, and we don’t need the money.”
She nearly rolled her eyes at his predictable response, but caught herself. “This isn’t about needing to work, or money. It’s about doing something more with my life now that the boys are grown and gone and I don’t have to take care of them any longer. Quite honestly, I’m bored being at home all day with nothing to do.”
His jaw clenched. “Are you unhappy?”
Of course his mind would go there first, because up to this point in their marriage she’d been perfectly content being a stay at home wife and mother. And she hated that he’d equate her need to work with being dissatisfied emotionally, or with him.
“This decision has nothing to do with you, or being unhappy in our marriage, which I’m not,” she said, her words gentle, but her tone remained firm. “You have Noble and Associates, and I’d like to get out of the house during the day, be around people, and do something productive with my time that stimulates me creatively. And this job as Stephanie’s assistant would give me exactly that.”
His entire body had grown stiff, his demeanor tense. “I don’t want you to work.” His reply was succinct and blunt.
“Why not?” She’d never pushed her husband so hard on an issue, but this opportunity was important to her and she wasn’t backing down or giving up.
His gaze darkened to a stormy shade of gray. “You know exactly why, Jillian,” he said, an unmistakable thread of anger vibrating in his voice.
Yes, she knew precisely why he was so adverse to the idea of her working and she wasn’t going to make him say the reasons out loud. She’d definitely provoked him and stirred up childhood angst and all those resentments toward his own dead-beat, insolent father.
They both knew why he felt the strong need to provide financially for his family, to be the kind of father and reliable, dependable, husband his dad had never been. Dean harbored a ton of guilt over his mother’s suicide and blamed himself for not being able to save her from his abusive father and a life of drudgery, and those emotions had driven him to be a better man than his father in every way, and he’d succeeded beyond what most people strive for.
Yet despite what Dean had made of his life and how he’d made his family a priority, those painful memories made it difficult for him let go of the provider/protector mentality he’d embraced their entire marriage.
“I’m not your mother,” she softly, knowing she was treading into very dangerous, emotional territory, but it had to be done. “You’ve always taken care of me, and I know you always will. You’ve given me and the boys a great life, and I’ve loved being able to stay home for them, and you, the past twenty years. But I’m at a point in my life when I want, no need, to take this job.”
He immediately shut down, his withdrawal from her, and the conversation, nearly palpable. “Look, I’ve got a ton of things to get done tonight, including this presentation for Corporate Crises Management, before I leave for New York in the mor
ning. If I don’t have a presentation for the client, we don’t get the contract. We’ll talk about it when I get back home.”
He was brushing her off, and she couldn’t deny that his disregard hurt. A lot. “So, what I want or need isn’t a priority right now?”
He sighed heavily, wearily even, as he rubbed his forehead with his fingers. “I didn’t say that. I just don’t have time tonight to have this argument.”
An argument he clearly intended to win. Well, so did she. Which meant they were at a stalemate.
He glanced back down at the paperwork on his desk, a quiet dismissal, and Jillian couldn’t stem the disappointment and frustration coursing through her. They’d come so far in the past few months, emotionally and physically. They’d opened up to one another in ways they never had before, they’d built a fortress of trust she’d believed would carry over into other aspects of their marriage, and this felt like a huge slide backwards.
She stood up and walked to the door, then stopped and turned back around. He didn’t look up at her, but she knew he could hear her, and that’s all that mattered. “I’d really like to have your blessing to do this, but just so the two of us are clear, I don’t need your approval to accept the job, Dean. If you don’t learn to compromise and trust me, it’s going to cause resentment and anger to build between us.”
It was a harsh statement to a man who liked to be in control of everything, but she didn’t want her husband to think or believe that she’d just roll over and accept his dictate. He might not want her to work, but she’d made her decision and it was up to him to come to terms with this new shift in their marriage.
CHAPTER 6
“Are you done working for the night?”
Jillian’s soft voice drifted though Dean’s cellphone, making his chest ache as it did every evening when he called home to check in with her. He’d been in New York for the longest, most miserable week of his life, and he missed her. Not just the physical component of being together, but their easy conversations, their flirtatious banter, and her laughter . . . all of that had been sorely lacking since the night she’d walked into his office and turned his perfectly well-ordered life, and everything in it, upside down.