She’s kind of a mess, which only amplifies as she lies down and attempts to spread her legs my way. “I want you to fuck me right here on the floor.”
“You only want it right there, on the floor, because you can’t make it to the bedroom.”
“Semantics.”
I laugh. I am so not getting laid tonight. No sex in this fancy hotel room.
I move forward and lift Rylan.
Her arms swing around my neck, and she grumbles into my chest as I walk her to the bedroom, “Oh, shit.” Her nails grip my neck, and she sucks in a deep breath. “Too fast. You’re making my head spin.”
“Sorry, Little Bird.”
Her skin is flush, her hair is a rumpled mess, and her eyes lazily stare up at me as I place her in the center of the bed. Even unfocused, those hazel eyes burn with nothing but heat. Against my better judgment, my cock gets a little harder. It’s inevitable when she’s naked and looking at me like she is.
“I want you, Callen.” She pulls at my shirt.
“Not tonight, babe.”
“You’re no fun!” She rises from the bed and staggers to the bathroom.
“Are you okay?” I ask, afraid that I’ll be cleaning up her vomit in the next few minutes.
“I have to pee!”
I give her privacy but listen in case she’s actually going to get sick. Water starts to run in the bathroom, and when I look to see what’s going on, I find her standing by the tub, which is rapidly filling with water.
“Oh no, you don’t.” I move to grab her by the hips, but it only works against me when she grinds her ass into me.
“Have you seen this bathroom? Take a look at this tub!”
“Rylan, you’re drunk. The odds of you drowning in that tub are high.”
“Come in with me then. I won’t drown if you keep me safe.”
I’m not the man to keep anybody safe.
She kisses my neck and pulls at my clothing. While I’m distracted, Rylan successfully removes my shirt and gets to work on my jeans. I lean in and taste the skin that taunts me. She moans while I kiss along her throat, and my pants fall to my feet. The hot water filling the tub creates steam around us.
Rylan pulls back and licks her lips. “Get in the tub with me.” Her voice is authoritative, but her eyes and lips say, Please.
I step out of my jeans and pull my boxer briefs off. “Let’s get in.”
The tub is huge and can easily fit the both of us comfortably. I get in first and let the hot water wash over me. She follows and sits between my legs. Her head falls back on my chest, and she lets her eyes close.
“Oh, fuck, that’s good,” she mumbles.
I can’t help myself. My hands rub against her skin, and Rylan moans. When my cock hardens against her ass, I let out a groan of my own.
“I think I’m too drunk to fuck you right now.”
I laugh. “You are.”
“This feels really good, though. Keep touching me.”
My fingers rake up her thigh and then brush against her stomach. I touch up and down her skin, causing the water to ripple and stir.
“Where did you grow up?”
“Nevada,” I answer her with the truth without even considering a lie.
Rylan holds on to the outside of my thighs, and we sink lower into the water.
“Why did you leave?”
“I don’t think I’m really meant to stay in one place for too long.”
“Do you miss it? Home?”
“Not in the least. Nevada isn’t my home.” Again, the truth comes, and it feels strange. I have spent the last ten years spinning lies and hiding who I am.
“Do you have family?”
“No.” I hand her another truth.
“Me neither. My family was taken from me years ago.” Her words come out in a faint whisper.
“What do you mean?”
But nothing, except for silence, stretches between us. I jostle Rylan, and she lets out a soft, little snore. As gently as I can, I stand while making sure she doesn’t sink down into the water. I lift her into my arms, carry her soaking wet body into bed, and then grab two towels to dry us. Once she’s dry, I pull the covers over her before sliding into bed. She cuddles in closer to me when I kiss her forehead, and I close my eyes.
I was going to prove I didn’t need the club to get Rylan off, but instead, I think we’ve proven it isn’t just the getting off that we like about one another. That’s a sobering fucking thought.
Rylan
There is a pounding in my head, a punishment for the many drinks I sucked down last night. My tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth, and I don’t even attempt to open my eyes. I pull the covers over my head and snuggle in deeper to the warmth of the bed.
Last night returns in pieces. Tatum and I drove up to Mohegan Sun. She convinced me to invite Callen. He came. We spent a night outside our bubble of the club. His lingering touches were certainly more of a public display than I was used to. There could probably be some fun found in that though, stolen moments in actual public instead of in the club. I’d willingly get down on my knees behind any barely hidden spots for him. Callen handled me a lot last night, and we didn’t have sex. His nearness wasn’t sexually motivated. Each lazy contact was familiar, as if he weren’t aware he was even doing it.
The memory throws me off-balance only for a quick second. Two people who have fucked the way we’ve fucked will obviously become comfortable with one another.
All these thoughts of Callen have me reaching out toward the opposite side of the bed. The sheet is cold. I open my eyes for the first time this morning and find that I’m alone in this hotel bed. I’m almost positive I didn’t go to bed alone, though I can’t remember actually getting out of the bath or getting into bed. Curious, I get up to inspect whether Callen is out in the main part of the room and to hunt down some coffee.
The living area is empty, but Tatum is slouched over the counter at a ninety-degree angle in front of the coffeemaker, watching it brew. Her eyes are intensely zeroed in on the drip of the machine, only flicking away from it for a second as I walk in.
“Do you and Callen want coffee? It’s about ready,” she asks.
“I don’t think Callen is here.”
“You don’t think?”
“Well, I don’t see him.” I shrug, not knowing what else to say or if I’m even supposed to care.
“He just left?”
“I guess so.” I reach into a cabinet and grab two mugs before joining Tatum to stare at the machine. “Is it weird that he left like that?”
She pours the coffee as she says, “I don’t know. Between all the hair-pulling and hip-thrusting last night, did he mention having any plans today? Did you check your phone? Maybe he texted you.”
Again, I shrug. I didn’t think to check my phone.
“Um, there kind of wasn’t any hair-pulling or thrusting last night.”
“Slow sex seems vanilla for the two of you.”
“There wasn’t any sex at all.”
Tatum raises her eyebrows in skepticism and then walks toward the room I slept in last night. She doesn’t even bother looking over her shoulder at me as she hollers out, “Well, we obviously have things to discuss. We’ll order room service on Callen and have breakfast in bed.”
That sounds like a perfect idea. She’s a genius.
She calls downstairs and orders one of everything before crawling into bed next to me.
“This is bothering you. Why?” Tatum asks before she takes a sip of coffee.
She’s right. It does bother me, but I’m not sure I want it to. Callen and I aren’t anything. Hell, I don’t even know how he takes his coffee or if he even drinks it. There is so much conflict inside me over it that I can’t untangle it.
“I don’t know.”
“You do know, so tell me.”
I roll my eyes at her, at myself, at trying to dissect a sexual relationship with a man who has never indicated we are anything but fuck buddies. My
reaction to waking alone this morning surprises even me. Callen is who he is. There is only sex between us, but our night outside the club has fucked with my head. I should never have invited him.
I wanted Callen for a reason, and suddenly, my purpose seems distorted. My black-and-white perspective is full of color and messy. Like one of those abstract paintings you stare at and have no clue what you’re meant to see.
“It was a mistake to invite him out with us,” I admit.
“Why do you say that?”
“We don’t exist outside of the club. I shouldn’t see him protecting my friend from assholes. He isn’t supposed to have his hands on me while I have my clothes on unless he’s getting ready to take them off. We’re not a couple, so we definitely don’t relax in a bath together or sleep in the same bed, especially without ravishing one another until someone falls apart.”
“So what? You can’t open another layer of your relationship without it meaning the world is going to end?”
“Since when are you on board with the idea of Callen at all? Last week, you were warning me away, and now, you think adding a layer is a smart idea? What gives?”
“Callen was pretty great yesterday. The way he handled that guy who came after me and the way he is with you. I see something different in him when you two are together.”
“He was quick on his feet, Tatum; that’s it. He defends your honor, and your creepy vibe about him is gone? Just vanished?”
“It wasn’t a creepy vibe. It was a weird vibe. There’s a distinction. And not vanished, but, yeah, I think he deserves some credit.”
I sit up and click my tongue at her in a patronizing way. “Don’t let your guard down so easily, my friend.”
“You are so confusing. Do you want me to like him or not?” She dramatically throws her hand into the air, careful not to spill her coffee.
“That’s your decision to make. I’m just saying that a first impression is usually right about a person.”
“And what was your first impression of him?” she questions me.
“That he was dangerous but would be a lot of fun.”
She huffs out a frustrated breath. I don’t blame her. I’m being confusing.
“You got a dangerous vibe from him, and you’re just now telling me?”
“A girl needs to flirt with danger every now and again. I don’t think he’s dangerous to you or me, but he definitely has an edge.”
“I’m so lost. Do I trust him or commit you?”
I playfully hold out my wrists for Tatum to cuff. “You’re probably on to something.”
A knock at the door interrupts our conversation, and Tatum shakes her head at me and rises from the bed to grab our breakfast. I stay in the frustratingly clean bed. My phone buzzes with a text tone, and I try to act cool, but I’m not sure that I manage when I dive for the phone. It isn’t him. It’s my boss from The Kinky. I’m disappointed, but I open the text to see what she has to say anyway. Tatum returns with a cartful of food, and I smile at her.
“I just got a text. My latest article is the most viewed piece The Kinky has ever published.” That news brightens my mood a bit. I knew the writing was good.
“Rylan, that’s great! I want to read it sometime.”
I take a sip of my coffee while Tatum sets up our breakfast spread on the bed. I reach for the hot sauce, and my phone chimes on the nightstand once again.
Callen: Had to take care of some things early this morning. Order breakfast on me.
Tatum looks over my shoulder and shoots me a knowing smirk when she sees the text is from Callen. “It’s no fun now that he gave us permission. But at least the mystery of his disappearance is solved.”
Is it? Sounds like a blow-off to me.
“Let’s talk about something else,” I say, effectively closing the conversation. I dig my fork into my scrambled eggs, hungry but also looking for a distraction.
“Okay, but let me just say this. I think Callen is good for you, but I’m positive he’s hiding something. When you figure out what that something is, just be careful.”
“Tatum, I’m not a naive girl. I’m not oblivious to the possibility that he has some skeletons in his closet. But I don’t care what he has hidden away. Our arrangement isn’t that deep.”
“I saw your face when you realized Callen wasn’t here this morning. Do you really still expect me to believe that?”
I don’t respond. I can’t respond. I can’t because she has to believe that. If she doesn’t believe it, then I might have to admit the truth to myself.
It isn’t true that I’m in over my head.
That I’m in deep with a man I should only wade in the shallow end with.
Not true at all.
Callen
The building I’m parked in front of is sketchy. I have no idea what happens inside. There are no business or residential records for the property.
Number Three, Sebastian Rutherford, is on my to-do list today. The man spends most of his time in New York City where he works as a financial analyst, but he still owns a vacation property in Maplefield. My tracking device told me he came into town late last night, and today, he led me here, where I’ve been waiting for hours.
His fancy car idles in the parking lot as the sun leaves the sky. His black tinted windows hide his face from me. A girl walks out the back door of the building and into the parking lot. Her demeanor is hesitant and more than a little skittish as he gets out of his car and moves to stand by the rear door. Without glancing over at him, the woman puts one six-inch stiletto into his waiting car before he stops her. He grabs her arm and twists, pulling her back to him. He glances around the parking lot while the woman holds her breath. His open palm waits between them, and she reaches into her cleavage before handing something to him.
Money.
He counts the cash without letting go of her. Casually, he pockets it and then backhands the woman. Her face jerks to the right, but she makes no effort to protect herself. Then, he pushes her headfirst into the back of his vehicle, slams the door, and moves to get behind the wheel.
I follow him as he weaves his way through traffic, eventually entering an affluent neighborhood. When Sebastian pulls through the gate guarding his driveway, I slowly drive past, as if my destination isn’t the same as his. The girl’s presence means I’ll have to wait for a better opportunity, but it doesn’t mean I have to stop my recon.
I park my truck on the curb three blocks over and circle back to Number Three’s house. The quiet neighborhood looks fast asleep, as if everyone draws their shades at dusk and gets in bed shortly after. Still, I pull my hood over my head as I walk and try to be quiet as I climb the high fences separating the properties.
Sebastian’s large home is the only one on the block with a few lights on. I can see movement through a downstairs window, and I creep closer until I can clearly see Number Three through the window. Then, I pause.
I shouldn’t be surprised, but somehow, I am. The girl from the parking lot is cooking, and there are shackles on her feet. Mascara is smeared down her face against her swollen purple cheek. Number Three pays her no attention, his eyes riveted on something he’s doing on his phone. The girl, who was in tight but casual clothes last time I saw her, now wears a revealing lacy lingerie piece but has on the same sky-high heels from earlier. I’m shocked she can walk in them with the chains connecting her ankles.
She plates his food and then moves to pull out the chair next to his. He still does not acknowledge her as he puts his phone down and picks up a fork. The woman crawls under the table from the opening she gave herself by pulling out the chair. On her hands and knees, she pulls the chair back into its place. She slides between his open legs and rests her chin on the cushion of his chair, inches from his groin.
Still, he ignores her.
Sebastian eats while the girl sits motionless on her knees. No part of her is touching him, but it’s obvious she’s there for his pleasure. Her back is arched, her hands grip the front
chair legs, and her tits are pushed up on display. He eats, and she remains poised. The kitchen is silent while this awkward scene plays out. Number Three eats his dinner with slow and measured bites, and I wish he would hurry up. Standing out here is not my idea of a good time.
After he finally finishes, he leans over and sets his plate on the floor beside him. Smoothly, the girl pushes the chair back away from the table and scoots out. She crawls on the floor until the plate is just under her face. She waits on all fours, looking up at Sebastian.
For the first time, he dignifies her with an acknowledgment. He squeezes her jaw with his hand, and I read his lips as he says, “Eat quickly, bitch.”
She nods, and he lets go of her face. She grabs his plate and then lifts taller on her knees. She doesn’t rise to her feet as she refills the plate he just ate from and places it back on the ground. Then, she lowers her face, eating from the plate on the floor like an animal. Sebastian moves his chair to face her. Her ass is in the air, her legs are spread open as wide as the restraints will allow, and her hands on the floor are parallel to the plate, which is quite the picture. She eats quickly, but she’s careful not to make a mess. When she’s finished, she rises on wobbly legs and washes the plate in the sink before loading it in the dishwasher.
Once again, she gets down on the floor and sits between Number Three’s legs, which are turned out from the table. He smirks down at her and grabs the back of her hair. With force, he shoves her face between his legs as he grinds up against her.
“You are a filthy slut. You are mine to control. You live your life for me. What happened today? Tell me why you didn’t meet your quota.”
I don’t know if she responds since her face is still being driven into Sebastian’s crotch.
“Do you think the other girls there are better whores than you are? Would one of them make me happier than you do? Because, right now, I am not happy with you, my pet.”
He shoves her harder between his legs and grinds his hips. “If you aren’t making me happy, then there is no reason for me to keep you. Are we understood?”
Is this their kink? Is she here consensually or against her will?
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