Frisky Business (Kinky Chronicles, #5)

by Jodi Redford

  Fuck. What if she was canceling tonight?

  At the barest minimum, it’d save him his sanity and a potential beat-down. But he couldn’t fool himself that the prospect of not getting the opportunity to savor Jane was a bitter pill to swallow. It was akin to having the sweetest decadent treat handed to him, and then immediately snatched away. Yeah, even Cherrie’s prize-winning cinnamon rolls didn’t hold a candle to Jane.

  Done torturing himself, he powered on his PC and waited impatiently for his internet to load. Once it completed the task, he accessed his inbox and pulled up her message.

  Yesterday was amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard in my life. I’ve decided I’m going to invest in some shock paddles for tonight. Have a feeling I’m going to need them.

  Your eager student of kink,

  Jane

  She would. And possibly not just for reviving herself after the sex. Groaning, he slumped back in his seat, equal amounts of relief and trepidation competing for headspace. The tangled web he wove was beginning to resemble a macramé project gone a million shades of wrong. The decent thing to do was either call it off or tell her now that he was Master Kink.

  If he did that they’d go back to their old status quo. In other words, Jane would despise him.

  When he’d assumed the identity of Master Kink, their baggage had been taken out of the equation. She had no reason to hate his alter ego, so she was open and uninhibited with him. She was the sexy, vivacious woman he’d known eighteen months ago, before everything went to shit between them.

  Was he a bastard for wanting to steal these moments with her? Probably. And Christ knows he’d suffer the consequences.

  His cell phone chirped, dragging him from the guilty brew of his thoughts. One glance at the incoming number prompted his weary exhale. Not today, Satan. Figuring Ava would leave him a message if it was an emergency—ten to one it wasn’t—he muted his phone. That out of the way, he saved Jane’s email with the others she’d exchanged with him and then turned his attention to sorting the remaining mess of his inbox. He found a couple of the porn spam and male enhancement offerings Cherrie accused him of having and deleted them before she could give him further shit.

  Less than a minute into his task, Cherrie buzzed his intercom. “The ex wants to talk to you. Says it’s an emergency.”

  Gritting his teeth, he debated telling Cherrie to transfer the call to his voicemail. He damn well knew it wasn’t an emergency. Seldom was with Ava. Unless you counted her daily driving need to remind him what an asshole he was as being an emergency. Resigning himself to the inevitable, he picked up his line. “What is it, Ava?”

  “I’m supposed to provide cupcakes for Sunny’s group today.”

  He somehow tuned out the throbbing in his temples. “And you’re calling me about this why?”

  “I forgot to send them along with her. You’ll have to come pick them up.”

  “In case you forgot, I’m not on your damn payroll anymore.”

  “My, aren’t we testy this morning. What’s the matter? No one around to suck your cock?” There was no mistaking the needling bitchiness in Ava’s tone. “It’ll take you all of forty minutes. Or is our daughter’s wellbeing and happiness completely unimportant to you?”

  He endured a lot of shit from Ava. Most days it simply wasn’t worth the resulting argument. The one thing he wouldn’t abide? Her maligning him where their daughter was concerned. Not after what she did. Especially not over some fucking cupcakes. That she was responsible for. “You know damn well where you can stick that load of bullshit. Goodbye, Ava.”

  “Wait. Okay, I’m sorry. I’m still jetlagged and it’s making me cranky. I’d take the cupcakes myself but Maria isn’t back with the car yet. I’m begging you, Jack. You used to like when I did that. Especially when I’m on my knees.”

  He deliberately ignored her blatant come on. Tempting as it was to remind her that none of that stuff was his problem, it was more important to him to do right by Sunny. “I’ll be there in twenty.” Resignation sitting on his chest like a two-ton brick, he hung up and grabbed his keys.

  Cherrie pinned him with a commiserating look when he exited his office. “Was it really an emergency?”

  “What do you think?”

  His secretary sighed as he stalked out the door.

  Thanks to the construction on Telegraph Road, the drive to Bloomfield Hills took fifteen minutes longer than usual. Valiantly attempting to not grind his molars to dust, he parked in the circular drive fronting Ava’s English Tudor. She greeted him at the door in a skimpy string bikini. If nothing else, she was predictable. She rarely passed up the opportunity to be as close to naked as possible on the extremely rare occasions they were alone together. “Glad to see you got dressed.”

  Ignoring his sarcasm, Ava turned her back on him and strutted across the marble atrium, the extra wiggle in her ass undeniably intended as an enticement.

  He wasn’t touching it with a ten-foot pole. Her ass or the invitation. Despite him being openly vocal about that fact, it never stopped his ex from trying. He didn’t fool himself that it had anything to do with lingering feelings for him. Ava was used to getting what she wanted. Bottom line. As one of the top attorneys for the most prestigious law firm in Michigan, losing at anything simply wasn’t in her wheelhouse. So it made it doubly incomprehensible to her that the man she used to pay for sex refused to be her beck and call boy anymore.

  He followed her into the kitchen. Miracle of all miracles, there actually were cupcakes waiting in a box on the counter. He wouldn’t have put it past her to lie about them just to get him over here. After all, lying was her fucking forte. She cracked open the fridge door. “Would you like a beer?”

  “It’s ten o’clock in the morning. And I’m driving,” he pointed out dryly.

  “A soda then.”

  “This isn’t a social call, Ava. Leave the refreshments and the bikini for the pool boy.”

  Her eyes glittered with crafty hope. “Jealous much?”

  “Are you kidding me? I’d be relieved. Maybe now you’ll stop throwing yourself at me.”

  “God, you are such a prick.” Her gaze drifted to the vicinity of his fly. “How ironic that it’s always been your one true saving grace. Your prick, that is. Not being one.” She leaned against the island, deliberately thrusting out her breasts. “Notice anything different about me?”

  “Other than you’re more tedious than usual? No.”

  Pouting, she lifted her hands behind her neck and tugged the string on her triangle top. The skimpy fabric fell to her waist. “How about now?”

  He gave her tits a brief, indifferent glance before grabbing the box of cupcakes. “You got a boob job.”

  “No, you son of a bitch. Nipple piercings.”

  “Congratulations. I’m sure the pool boy will love them.” With a parting nod, he strode toward the archway leading from the kitchen.

  “Any man would kill to be with me. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “You’re jetlagged, Ava. Go take a nap before you embarrass yourself.” More than you already have.

  Thankfully he made it out to his vehicle without her giving him the full Monty. A minute later, he and the baked goods were on their way to Sunny’s daycare. He shoved Ava out of his mind before a migraine could set in. Her antics were nothing new. Made them no less intolerable, obviously.

  The real irony? The two women forefront in his mind most days both drove him crazy. Only in entirely different ways. Ava—whom he desperately wanted to put behind him, and Jane, whom he desperately wanted to get under him.

  That’s where the similarities between them parted ways. Whereas Ava viewed him as a piece of property that got away from her, Jane’s desire to get horizontal with him back in the day was based purely on chemistry and good old fashioned lust. Her motive-free attraction to him was partly the reason he’d never told her anything about his escorting background. He wasn’t ashamed of it, but he was jaded as fuck.
It was refreshing not having his past hang over his head with Jane, and she didn’t equate his dick with being a commodity.

  Which brought him to the third ironic conclusion of the day. After all of his effort to keep Jane from finding out about his business, here she’d hired him. Well, Master Kink, anyway. The funny thing? She didn’t make him feel like a commodity. Oh, she wanted his dick. No question about it. But even their sex chat had felt more like genuine chemistry and lust than a business transaction.

  Only this wasn’t business as usual. Not in the remotest sense. He was treading shaky, dangerous ground. It’d be too easy to get addicted to this alternate reality with her. If he wasn’t careful, he’d start envisioning kinky, sex-filled days for them. Days. Not a single night. He had no room in his life for that kind of permanency. Yes, even regularly scheduled hot kinky sex sounded uncomfortably similar to a relationship. That’s how fucking warped he was.

  Shoving that unproductive—albeit honest—thought from his head, he pulled into the lot for Sunny’s daycare. The second he entered the building, fifteen ragamuffins who thought he was a cupcake superhero ambushed him. Most likely they were more excited about the baked goods than seeing him. He still felt pretty damn badass.

  Felicity invited him to stay and have a cupcake with the kids. He would have agreed, regardless, but Sunny clinched the deal by taking his hand and leading him to the circle of youngsters sitting cross-legged in the middle of the room. He dutifully took his place and Sunny and her cohorts giggled at his awkward attempt to copy their pose. Catching Felicity’s failed attempt at smothering her grin behind her hand, he tossed her a wink.

  Sunny plopped her Malibu Barbie in his lap. “My daddy plays with dolls.” She squinted at the kid from the playground, making it perfectly clear who was the intended recipient of her comment.

  Taking pity on Jack, Felicity cracked open a book and distracted everyone with a story. Roughly two minutes in, one of the boys decided it’d be fun to wipe his frosting-grubbed fingers in the ringlets belonging to the little girl sitting in front of him. In turn, the entire room was treated to the full lung capacity of the Shirley Temple doppelganger.

  The unfortunate side effect of tiny tot screams? Besides rupturing adult eardrums? They always seemed to trigger an outbreak of similar noises amongst their peers for no apparent reason beyond seeing which of them could break the sound barrier first. Being the pro she was, Felicity quickly rushed to action and hauled Frosting Fingers to the bathroom while her assistant struggled to regain order with the remaining troops. Someone lobbed a cupcake out of nowhere and all hell broke loose again.

  Aaaand, there’s my cue to go. He pressed a kiss to Sunny’s forehead. His daughter was far more interested in combing Malibu Barbie’s hair than the chaos commencing around her. His heart overflowing with an excess of emotion, he tucked her in a tight hug. “Love you, Sun Bun.”

  “Love you, daddy.”

  Wisely booking it out of there before his bawling gave the tykes a run for their money, he headed out to his car.

  He slid behind the wheel and checked his watch. How the fuck did eleven-thirty creep up so fast? Time flew when you were ducking flying cupcakes. Hell, with it this close to lunch, didn’t make much sense driving straight to the office. Might as well grab something to eat early. Plus he could kill two birds with one stone by picking up the things he’d need for tonight.

  His briefs growing snug, he mentally cycled through Jane’s list. She was taking care of the blindfold. He already had the handcuffs but the option of restraints called to him more. Handcuffs were too limiting. Ties? Way easier to work with and more comfortable for the wearer. We have a winner. He also needed to purchase condoms. Shit, it’d been ages since he’d had a purpose for those.

  He snagged his smartphone and ran a quick search for the closest adult novelty shop. His choices proved to be woefully limited. Bad Barb’s Wicked Emporium? Sounded like he had another winner. He hit the GPS function on his cell and cruised out of the lot.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Was it normal to be this nervous about a night of debauchery with a gigolo?

  Chewing her thumbnail, Jane stared at the rack of sinful lingerie in front of her. Who would have thought she’d be this jittery? For fuck’s sake, she’d once had a threesome while getting her oil changed. They’d been totally off about the in-and-out in twelve minutes or less. But anywho. This should be a piece of cake in comparison. At a minimum, considerably more private and less greasy.

  Everything had been taken care of. She’d booked the hotel. All she’d need to do was message Master Kink with the room number once she checked in and then wait for him show up and defile her in countless delicious ways. Safe bet he had plenty of scenarios in that wonderfully perverted brain of his. She didn’t have to do a damn thing other than come her brains out.

  So what was her freaking deal?

  What if her mojo had abandoned her for good and she totally flopped tonight? Like a big ole founder of un-sexiness.

  Yeah, the sex chat had gone astoundingly well. It certainly gave her a much-needed boost of confidence. But what if it was only temporary? Cybersex and the real deal were two entirely different beasts. With the first one, you had the safety net of a keyboard and the internet as a buffer. In person, you couldn’t hide your flaws. Your insecurities. The quivering vulnerability that you tried to mask with brash cockiness but sometimes failed horribly at.

  You’re overthinking this. Just pick out some damn lingerie that’ll make his eyes pop out. That’d solve one thing, at least. Missing eyes meant he’d overlook the cellulite dimple she’d noticed on her ass this morning. That’s what she got for skipping the gym the last thirty years.

  Refusing to dwell on her dimply butt, she sorted through the garments. The options ran on a sliding scale of I’ll-wear-this-but-you’re-not-getting-butt-sex all the way to oh-no-buddy-you’re-the-one-getting- the-butt-sex-tonight. She didn’t know Master Kink well enough to say whether or not the last outfit was remotely in his universe, so she held up the lacy number next to it and gave it a good eyeballing. Midway through her inspection, a strange sensation fell over her. Like she was being watched. She lifted her head and stared at the mannequin across from her, prepared to run for her life if the thing moved.

  A slight motion to her left jogged her attention from the dummy. She shifted her focus—and locked gazes with Jack. Unprepared for him or the visual contact, she sucked in a breath. They stood there for an endless moment stupidly gaping at each other before he took a step toward her. His attention fell to the itsy bitsy teddy in her hand. She swore a sizzle of heat lit in his eyes. He moved closer, revealing nothing with his usual inscrutable expression.

  Okay, maybe she’d imagined the whole fiery gaze thing.

  “I’m surprised to see you on this side of town, on a workday no less.” His attention drifted to the teddy again. “Hot date planned?”

  How nice of him to provide her the perfect opening. “I took the day off. And as a matter of fact, I do. I have a wild night of toe-curlingly dirty sex planned with Master Kink.”

  “Master Kink?”

  “Yes, my gi—” Oh shit, she almost blew it there. “My giant-dicked porn star boyfriend, remember?”

  “Ah, yes.” He scratched his jaw. “Didn’t realize that’s his name. Kind of a stupid one if you ask me. Mr. Boogie Nights is way better.”

  Snorting her opinion of his assessment, she returned to her task of sorting through the lingerie.

  “You should stick with the one you picked out.”

  Once upon a time she would have informed him that she didn’t need his stinkin’ advice, but damn it, she did. He was a man, after all. She wasn’t so stubborn to pass up an opportunity like this. “Really? Because I was also considering this one.” She grabbed the black latex oh-no-buddy-you’re-the-one-getting-the-butt-sex-tonight number.

  “No.”

  “Okay. If you’re absolutely sure—”

  “One-hundred-percent no.�
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  Well, that left pretty much no wiggle room. Much like the outfit. She stashed it back in place and waved her hand, indicating the rack. “Have at it.”

  Surprisingly, he did.

  Her goad had merely been for show. She sure as shit hadn’t expected him to take her up on the offer. He began studiously examining the garments, and she instantly realized her error in judgment. Not that she didn’t trust his judgment. She did. Probably better than her own when it came to this. But now she couldn’t stop imagining that this little shopping trip was for them. That he was choosing something he wanted to see her in. And strip her out of.

  It didn’t help her plight at all when he grabbed the red lace teddy again and deftly unclasped the crotch with a flick of his thumb and forefinger. He handed the ensemble to her. “This one. Easy access.”

  Her clit tingled. An odd guilt washed through her. She should be saving these sexy feelings for Master Kink. Yes, a ridiculous thought. Not like he’d care one way or another if she got her rocks off watching her nemesis demonstrate his finesse with disrobing a woman. She tucked the teddy over her arm. “Thanks for your help.”

  Jack eyed her for a long moment, tension bracketing his mouth. Was he thinking about her date making good use of that easy access he’d just finagled for him?

  Ha. Right. The odds of him being bugged by that was about as likely as Master Kink being upset about her earlier wayward thoughts about Jack.

  “Do you have time for lunch?” The question came out of the blue from him, bringing her thoughts to a slip-sliding halt.

  She stared at him like an idiot. “Lunch?”

  “That thing that comes between breakfast and dinner. We could mull over some ideas for the couples party.”

  It took several beats for her to decode what he was talking about. The last thing she needed was to subject herself to another five seconds of the Jack Brewster Sex Appeal Syndrome, much less the thirty minutes or more lunch would take. “I can do lunch.”