by Kendall Ryan
My rough growl is like a slap. She lowers her chin to her chest and twists her hands in her lap. “Well, I just wanted to tell you that I’m not, and I’m clean. I got tested after I found out Tony was cheating on me.”
Shit. Now I feel like even more of an asshole. She’s trying to have a serious, adult conversation with me, and I respond with some possessive, macho comment.
Lifting her chin, I force her gaze to mine. “That’s good to know. I don’t have anyone else I’m seeing right now, and I’m clean too. But whenever we play, we can use condoms if you prefer.”
A small smile forms on her lips. “No,” she murmurs. “If it’s just me and you, we don’t have to.”
Fucking hell. The erection I was sporting all throughout dinner? That motherfucker is back, pressing on my zipper and throbbing like it’s his damn job. Knowing I’ll be balls deep inside her without a layer of latex between us is . . . indescribable.
Macey rises from the couch. “I better get some sleep. I’m meeting Cameron’s new fiancée tomorrow.”
Shit, that’s right. Hale proposed, and Brielle said yes. “You’ll like Brielle. She’s sweet, and she’s good for him.” I rise to my feet and Macey gives me a hug to thank me for dinner. “How long until your new place is ready?”
“Not long. Is that a problem?”
“You can stay as long as you like. I’m just trying to figure out if I should have you a key made.”
“No, I’ll be out of your hair in a few days.”
I nod, ignoring the deeper meaning behind her words, and the sinking feeling in the pit of my gut. “Good night.”
Chapter Six
Macey
Of course I’m running late. Today will be my first time meeting Brielle, the new woman in my brother’s life. From the little bits I’ve picked up through conversations with Reece and Cameron, I sense that this is something he’s serious about, which surprises me given his past.
After the fiasco with his ex, that bitch-face Tara, I watched my brother change into a man I barely recognized. He grew hard, cold, and distant. I knew he was spending a lot of time with Reece, and now I understand why. He was sinking deep into the world of BDSM, a world I don’t understand, but I aim to. A world with mystery and sex and possibilities. It’s not lost on me that the exact thing Cameron ran to after licking his wounds is the same thing I’m doing post-breakup. Maybe it runs in the family.
Locating a parking spot at the restaurant/wine bar where we’re meeting, I maneuver my car into the tight space and kill the engine. This next hour should be nothing if not interesting.
As I make my way inside, I smooth my silk top over my hips, which seem to have grown rounder. Unless these jeans shrank. Geez. Refusing to feel self-conscious, I brush the thought away. That dipshit Tony would have slept with Pinky regardless of what I looked like, I’m pretty sure. Besides, Reece seemed to have no problem with my appearance. The way his dark brown eyes caressed every curve, every detail made me feel flushed and warm. I’ve filled out from the girl of eighteen he once knew.
Entering the restaurant, I pause to allow my eyes a moment to adjust to the dim interior. We’re meeting at a new wine bar in the heart of Chicago, and despite it being a little early in the afternoon for happy hour, there are couples and a few small groups seated at the bar and high-top tables filling the space.
I spot Cameron immediately. He sees me too, rising to his feet with a warm smile to greet me.
“You found it,” he says, putting his arm around me for a hug.
Despite not living here for the last several years, my brain seems to recall the city. “Your directions were perfect. Good to see you.” I return his hug.
The woman with him rises to her feet too. She’s petite and pretty, with wide eyes and a pouty mouth. It’s clear why he likes her. But when I notice her hair is in a casual ponytail and she’s dressed simply—wearing jeans, flats, and a plain cotton sweater—I decide I like her too. At first glance, she’s nothing like the overdone designer-wearing, fully manicured ex I despise. That’s an automatic ten points right there.
“Macey, I’d like you to meet Brielle.”
“Hello,” she says, softly, looking between Cameron and me as if she’s nervous.
I suppose this is akin to meeting his family, because with our parents gone, it’s only me. Well, and Nana.
“It’s great to finally meet you,” I say, leaning toward her with open arms for a hug.
She squeezes me and then we each take a step back, and when we do, we’re both smiling.
Cameron watches us, his contemplative mood hard to read. He’s quiet, and whenever his gaze flicks over to me, he frowns.
The waitress strolls up, delivering the drink menu.
“Shall I pick us a bottle?” Cameron asks us, glancing at the selection.
“Sure,” Brielle and I both say at the same time.
Trying to keep the mood light and friendly, I ask Brielle about her work and where she grew up, and she chats steadily as we sip our wine. My first hunch was correct—I like her. She’s sweet and smart, obviously a nice, normal girl, which is all I’ve ever wanted for my brother.
Cameron is so quiet, I ask him what’s wrong, but he merely shakes his head, frowning at me again. What the hell crawled up his ass? It’s the first time I’ve seen him since Reece spoke with him about our arrangement. I guess he’s not as okay with it as I thought.
When he excuses himself for the men’s room, I use the opportunity to switch to some girl talk, and maybe even pump Brielle for information.
“Well, everything I heard from Reece and Cam about you has been spot-on. I can tell you’re going to be really good for my brother.”
She smiles at me. “Thank you. He’s an amazing man, and I’m lucky to have him in my life.” We smile at each other for a sappy moment, before she asks, “You know Reece?”
“Yes. He and I have an interesting past. I had no idea about this current . . . preferences, though.”
“He’s a fascinating guy, that’s for sure,” she says, her cheeks flushing slightly.
“So I take it you know about the club.” God, I hate to think about her and my brother there. Ew. Gag me.
Brielle’s eyes widen and she chokes on her sip of wine. “Uh . . .”
Knitting my brows in confusion, I really hope I’m not stuffing my foot in my mouth. “I’m sorry . . . I thought . . .”
“Yes, I do,” she answers definitively.
“What can you tell me about Reece’s involvement in BDSM?” I hate that I suddenly feel like a lawyer, interrogating her for information. In my mind, this was going to be a smoother conversation. Instead I’m blurting things out without even thinking.
“I can’t speak much to that. I can only speak to what I’ve seen of him, and from what Hale has told me. Reece is a good man, but he doesn’t trust women. Hale says he should’ve taken a sub years ago, but he’s stubborn and refuses to settle down.”
Interesting.
“Why? Are you . . .” Brielle squints at me, apparently trying to read my intentions.
I shrug. “I’m just coming off of a bad breakup and looking to have some fun, that’s all.” I hold up my hands in surrender. “And Crave seems like the perfect place to do it.”
“A rebound fling,” she says. Frowning, she swirls the wine in her glass. “Just be careful with him. Reece is one of the good guys. I wouldn’t want to see him get hurt.”
Her concern feels genuine, but it’s misplaced. I’m pretty sure the big, bad Dom can handle himself. But before I can answer, Brielle’s eyes widen, and I sense Cameron’s presence looming behind me. I turn and see him fuming, his jaw ticking
“For fuck’s sake. First Reece comes to me, and now this.” Cameron pulls out his chair, but he doesn’t sit. He remains standing over me. “Listen up, Macey. You’re my goddamn sister. I don’t want to hear about your exploits. I don’t want to think about you getting in over your head with this. Lucky for you, I trust Reece implicitly. But I
still don’t want it thrown in my face.”
Letting out a deep sigh, I fight against the anger rising inside me. He has no place telling me who or what I can do. “I didn’t like learning about your involvement in the club either.” I nod to Brielle. “I don’t like thinking about you tying up your fiancée here in knots and doing God knows what, so let’s just agree to one thing right now. You stay out of my sex life and I’ll steer clear of yours. Deal?”
Shoving his hands in his pockets, he frowns and glares at me, obviously fighting to maintain his composure. “Done.”
I’m pretty sure he wants to punch something, but at least he’s going to back off. For now, anyway.
I toss back the last swig of my wine. “I think I better be going. It was very nice meeting you, Brielle. I’m sorry things got a little awkward at the end.” I try to chuckle, but it feels weird on my lips, and Brielle looks at me with sympathy. Hell.
“No, it’s not awkward at all. I’m so happy we met.” She pulls her cell phone from her purse, insisting that we swap numbers. “If you need anything as you get settled back into the city, anything at all, please call me. Even if it’s just to go get a pedicure, or someone to drink a margarita with.”
I fight back a strange wave of emotion at Brielle’s offer. I really don’t have any friends left in the city. I’m sure I could look up some old high school friends, but that holds no appeal. High school was a weird time for me. Between losing my parents, being taken in by Nana, and secretly dating Reece, my plate was full, and I just sort of drifted through those couple of years until I could escape.
“Thank you. I will,” I promise. “I love a good margarita.”
“I know just the place then. Text me whenever.” She stands up and hugs me.
I seriously love this girl.
“Good job with this one,” I tell Cameron, some of my annoyance toward him fading.
“Thanks, sis. I love you, you know.”
“Yeah, I know.” I pull on my coat and grab my wallet. “Can I chip in for the wine?”
He shakes his head. “I’ve got it.”
I’m guessing they’re going to stay and finish the rest of the bottle, and he’s being kind—he knows I don’t have a job yet. My savings was padded pretty nicely, but still, that won’t last me forever.
“See you around!” I call out over my shoulder, stealing one last look at the cute couple.
I used to be that couple, in love with wide-eyed happiness. Now I’m a jaded, unemployed hot mess. I head back to Crave, which seems to be quickly becoming my own little escape from reality.
Chapter Seven
Reece
I’m talking with my security manager in the camera room when Macey arrives back at the club. I watch her walk through the bar on the screen overhead. She moves confidently toward the elevator, looking sexy, her hips swaying as she walks. I can’t help but remember last night on the couch, feeding her small sips of Scotch as I watched her body’s reactions to me and the liquor, the way her nipples hardened beneath her dress, begging to be licked.
“Boss?” he asks.
“What?” What the fuck were we talking about?
It’s crazy how just the sight of her gets my blood pumping¸ my dick hard, and all thoughts to flee my brain, only to be replaced with fantasies of pinning her down and fucking her hard and fast.
“That switch who lost her paddle last weekend . . . what do you want me to do?”
Oh, right. “We’re not a fucking lost and found. Tell her it’s her responsibility to keep track of her equipment while she’s here. End of fucking story. Now, are we done here?”
He nods sharply. “Yes. Got it.”
“Good.”
I stride from the office and head straight toward the elevator, still able to pick up notes of Macey’s scent in the air. After checking in with my staff, I planned to go back to my office and get a few more hours of work done, but now nothing can keep me from jumping into what I know will probably end in a big fucking mess.
The elevator takes its sweet-ass time, but finally I stroll into my apartment. “Macey?” I call out, not seeing her.
Music comes from the guest room, so I knock lightly on the door.
She opens it, looking good enough to eat. Her hair flows in loose waves over her shoulders, and her big blue eyes latch onto mine. She’s dressed in fitted jeans that hug her spankable ass, and a silk top that drapes beautifully over her full breasts. Her skin looks so soft, I want to reach out and touch it, just to prove to myself that there’s no way it’s as soft as I remember.
“Busy?”
She glances back to the laptop that’s open on her bed. “No, I was just shopping for curtains online.”
I tilt my head, continuing to watch her. “Would you like to do something more interesting?”
“Sure.” She smiles at me, her brain already working.
I lean in close, letting my mouth and nose brush over her neck, and feel the pulse thrumming under her skin. She smells incredible, lightly scented with lavender and vanilla. I want to taste her, but that will come later when she’s naked and waiting, and I can take my time licking from one spot to the next.
“You are to go down to the third floor and meet me in my private play room. It’s the last room on the end, and the security code is 0413.”
“Your birthday,” she says without hesitation.
Pausing, I swallow, surprised as hell that she remembers that detail. “Yes. April thirteenth.”
She looks down at her outfit. “Should I get ready first?”
Fighting off a smile, I shake my head. She’ll be in her birthday suit soon. “You’re fine like that. Let yourself into the room, and remove your shirt and jeans. I want you to wait for me on the bed in your bra and panties. While you wait, think of your safe word. When I arrive, you’ll tell me what it is.”
“Okay,” she says softly. A pink flush spreads over her chest, as if she’s realizing this is really about to happen.
My own heart is hammering in my chest as I watch her turn and head for the door. Her round, apple-shaped ass taunts me with every step she takes. I can feel myself slipping already, and we haven’t even begun.
When the door to the apartment closes, followed shortly by the ding of the elevator, I dig my cell phone out of my pocket and press the button for a number I haven’t called in a long time.
“Oliver?”
“Hey, Reece. How are things?”
“I need some backup in a scene. Are you free?”
“Sure. Not a problem. When are you thinking?”
“Give me ten minutes, then meet me in my private room.”
“See you then.”
Arriving at my private room, I pause at the door to type in the security code, then let myself in. The overheard lights are off, and the shades are drawn, leaving only faint splashes of afternoon light to peek around the edges, casting the room in dim shadows. Macey is sitting at the end of the bed, her feet dangling from the floor. The generous swell of her cleavage spills over the cups of her black bra, and a small piece of matching black lace barely covers her between her legs. Her hair is loose, cascading over her bare shoulders, and her cheeks are rosy. She looks perfect.
I stalk closer, moving slowly and deliberately, letting her experience every bit of the uncertainty evident in her features. She chews on her lower lip, waiting, watching me. I stop directly before her, close enough to touch, but for now I keep my hands to myself. My cock is already half-hard, and if she hasn’t noticed yet, she’s going too soon.
“Have you chosen a safe word?”
“Yes,” she says. “Pancake.”
I smirk, fighting the urge to bite my lip. “Fine.”
Closing her eyes, she shakes her head and draws in a big inhale. “Sorry, I’m just a little nervous.”
“About what?” I ask, needing to be further inside her head.
Her gaze drifts to the toy bag I’ve placed just inside the door. “Pain.”
I shake my hea
d. “Nothing to worry about.” Something tells me that any scars after our encounters will be psychological, not physical. Besides, I don’t enjoy doling out pain. “Can I make you more comfortable?” I ask, my gaze drifting down to the cups of her bra.
She nods.
Reaching behind her, I unclasp her bra, needing her to feel every bit as exposed as I do.
Macey doesn’t cover herself; she doesn’t cower. She holds her shoulders steady and lets me carefully remove the piece of lacy lingerie.
Her full breasts, unrestricted by the black lace, tumble freely into my waiting hands. It’s been years, six torturous years since I could touch her like this and make her feel good. I skim my thumbs across her nipples and she shudders, arching into my touch. Watching her nipples tighten as I stroke them, I’m reminded of little pink gumdrops, my favorite candy, and I bet she tastes just as sweet.
“You have beautiful tits, sweetheart,” I tell her.
Macey looks up, continuing to sit perched on the bed while I stroke her breasts and nipples. She presses her thighs together—the movement subtle, but not unnoticed.
“Are those panties getting wet for me already?”
“Yes, sir,” she murmurs, pushing her breasts into my hands, letting me massage and fondle her delicate skin. A knock at the door interrupts us, and her half-lidded eyes fly open, her expression puzzled. “Expecting someone?”
“Yes. Sit tight.”
I answer the door and let Oliver inside. Part of me is beginning to understand why Hale called me in for backup in his session with Brielle—he might not have known how to handle the depth of his emotional connection to the submissive under his command. No way in hell do I want to explore the similarities there between us.
“Thanks for coming,” I say, shaking his hand.
“Of course. However I can help, I’m here.”
I turn toward Macey to find she’s crossed her arms over her chest, hiding her breasts, and is sitting straight as a stick on the bed like someone jammed a pole up her ass. Remember when I said I’d be calling the shots, princess?