by Lea Bronsen
And don’t get her started on her nose. The damn thing had been broken more than once. All of this should have made her feel inadequate, and they actually did, especially when she was in her friend’s presence for some reason.
So, wanting to lean into Brady’s body when his arm curled around her waist, wanting to rub against his face with hers, wanting to put a little extra swing in her hips, wasn’t anything she expected. Yet, she had to fight against all those urges and allow him to lead her to the bar.
The heavy weight of curious gazes landed on her shoulders like a cloak, kissed the back of her neck as a long-lost lover would. She hated it all, and tried her best to avoid situations such as this; ones where she’d been in the middle of a strange crowd, in an unfamiliar location, and out of her depths with what to do. She didn’t like people in her space, tried not to draw attention to herself, and had no idea how to deal with this situation.
Brady tugged on her hand, drawing her up between him and the bar, then sheltered her much smaller frame by setting heavy arms on either side of her. Yeah, he caged her in, and pretty damn well, she’d give him that. She couldn’t help being both a little grateful and a little turned on. With his long, lean body barely brushing the back of hers, him playing the protector and not allowing others to reach her, as well as feeling the brush of silk against her skin… Well, he’d managed to take away every bit of her insecurities from seconds earlier, and make her feel very feminine.
It’d been so long since she’d felt anything other than responsibilities in taking care of her mother, of acting as the city’s last line of defense against men who got off on kicking women around. For one night, the temptation to let go beckoned.
Be free.
Be anything other than who she was.
So, rather than curving in on herself in order to avoid any contact with anyone, Brady included, she subtly arched her back, and pushed her chest out, while at the same time her rear-end came ever-so-slightly in contact with his hips.
He jerked and stilled. The oddest sensation came over her. His entire focus centered on her. But more than knowing all that, a sinister type of tendril wove its way into her awareness. Almost like she’d poked a sleeping lion and was about to learn the meaning of boundaries. Either that, or she was a chocolate cake at a weight loss clinic meeting. She couldn’t tell which, but both scenarios exhilarated and scared the absolute shit out of her.
Brady scooted closer so his groin came into full contact with her ass, the fit as if he’d been born to be there. He rapped two knuckles on the bar and caught the attention of the tender, who was dressed in a black tee with purple letters over the left breast, reading “Phuckit”. He flashed two fingers at the young male, then pointed to a sign. Seconds later, two Coronas settled in front of them, and she snatched hers off the counter before her next blink.
A quick exchange of cash occurred, and she held her breath, waiting for him to move back and establish the friendly distance. It never came. Instead, he wrapped a big hand around his bottle, and she felt, rather than saw, him curve over her.
“Joey, have a care to who you’re rubbing against.” His voice rumbled low, causing her to shiver. Hot breaths puffed against the naked skin of her neck. She tilted toward his face, straining to hear what he’d say next, seeing as he hadn’t moved away. “I’m all for teasing games, but there’s a time, and there’s definitely a place. You need to get taken care of, I’ll make sure that happens. And I’ll get you to that place keeping your safety in mind. You just gotta say the word.”
Well, that was ominous. “What—” she tried to ask.
His free hand landed on her hip and squeezed. He pulled her toward him and pressed forward. Holy shit! Not only could she feel a very sizable erection slide between the crease of her cheeks, but the move caused her to arch her back even more to where she was almost bent over the bar counter. Surprising, seeing as he’d manipulated her with one movement of his hand. Hot because of the position, their surroundings, and because it was him.
She knew this position was doable for sex, she just never realized how much she wanted to try it until this moment.
Why now, she couldn’t answer. Maybe it was the music. Maybe the atmosphere. Maybe it was just the time.
“I won’t lie,” he said against her ear, drawing her attention back, “and say I’ve never thought of getting you in bed. Even now, I want you. But there’s more than just friendship coming between us and that happening. You need to understand a few things.”
“What does that mean?” she asked, staring ahead at the dozens of exotic fish moving around in the tank. Such a simple life. Get fed. Swim around. Have someone else clean up your mess. Simple.
“Mr. McBride?” a throaty voice asked next to them.
Johanna tore her gaze away from the fish and focused on a woman in a long, skin-tight black dress. She was Brady’s height, causing Johanna to look way up in order to catch her gaze. Beautiful, too, with long, rich mahogany waves slipping over her shoulders, tickling around a pair of smaller breasts.
“Finish your drink, Joey. I’ll grab new ones before we head back.” He released her and stepped away, far enough that they weren’t in direct, intimate contact anymore. Cooler air brushed along the exposed skin of her back, his retreat making her bereft. She turned and found his dark head dipped low and talking to the newcomer, his voice too quiet for her to hear. She finished the beer, her eyes watering from the harsh carbonation, but her nerves singing in gratitude. She wanted something stronger, but had a feeling she’d need to keep her wits tonight. Brady wouldn’t let anything happen to her, but for some reason, he seemed as much of a threat to her as the rest of the strangers in the room. Physically she didn’t fear for her safety. But the feeling that she missed something, or rather, was missing something, still settled in her tummy.
He replaced her empty bottle for a fresh one, then grabbed her free hand and led her from the bar. They followed the woman through the crowd and to a door at the back wall.
“Where are we going?” Johanna asked.
The woman turned to both of them, one hand on the knob, the other holding a black keyless card. She ran her gaze down the length of Johanna, then turned to Brady. “Remember, guests are your responsibility. They break the rules, you’ll be held accountable. It’s in the contract.”
“I understand. She will be fine.”
“Wait, what?” Johanna asked. “What rules? What contract?”
The woman raised a brow, but kept her gaze on Brady. “This is interesting. You’ve never brought a guest before.”
He matched her eyebrow. “Keeping tabs, are we?”
The woman shrugged. “It’s in your file. Morgan is very particular about members. Especially those that act out of the norm for their regular activities.”
His back went straight. “I’m not certain I like your tone. The only difference tonight is my guest. That’s it. If Morgan has a problem with what I do, then both he and Bennett can ask me themselves.”
The woman arched her brow. Brady didn’t say anything, only stared back. Who were Morgan and Bennett? Owners, probably. But of what? Why the shady, secret conversation? The code talk?
The woman flickered her gaze to Johanna and back. “Can we assume she’ll join you?”
Wait, what the hell was all this? Cryptic much? “Of course I’ll join him,” she inserted. “I am his guest.”
Brady’s brows cut down in a sharp vee, his hand squeezing hers in a warning. “She thinks we’re having sex, Joey. Or rather, will have sex tonight.”
“What? What business is it of hers to…” Johanna asked, at the same time the woman said, “I see.”
“Like I’ve said, tonight is no different from any other. Just a friend accompanying me. I would think Morgan would be happy to have the possibility of more members,” Brady said. “But if this is going to be a problem…”
“There’s no problem. I’m glad we’ve cleared that up,” the woman answered, her voice smooth, then turned a
nd used the key card. An audible lock clicked, and she pushed open the door.
Johanna looked at Brady, whose face gave nothing away, then through the door, unable to see anything other than the fall of dark sheer drapery. “What’s going on?”
He stopped, one foot inside the door, one out, and looked at her. “Do you trust me? This is just one part of tonight. I need to know you trust me.”
She studied his features, looking for anything to give her a clue. Like always, though, his face gave nothing away. It was like he wore a mask, one he refused to take off. He had no tics, no tale-tells, no emotion. He stood there looking deadly handsome and so confident it was almost cocky. Their friendship swelled past thirteen years. He’d been there for her through so much.
Did she trust him? Trust not knowing what she was walking into?
She took a deep breath, bit her lip, and plunged off the cliff, stepping into the room behind him.
Where the music in the other room teased with sensual strokes, the melody floating through this one spoke of the deed. Of hot, sweaty sex with no shame.
Brady pushed through the drapery and paused for a moment before stepping aside.
The heavy weight of his attention landed on her, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the room. There must have been a good twenty to thirty people standing around, some paired, others standing solo. Fog drifted along the floor and seemed thicker at the sides of the room. The scene would have looked ridiculous in any other room, but in this one, with the music floating through the air, the soft moans and smacking flesh, the added silliness provided exactly what it should have…a reticent mood. As if one would never know what could jump out from the mist and touch you.
The focus of everyone was on a stage about three feet higher than the rest of the floor, located at the back of the room. A couple moved together in ecstasy, the woman’s lithe form bent over a bench, the male taking her from behind. And despite the ball in her mouth, despite Brady and Johanna being fifty feet from the stage, the pleasure this woman took was written all over her face.
Johanna gasped and set a hand high on her stomach, feeling a warmth curl deep within. That was pretty damn close to the position she’d been thinking of at the bar. Her skin tingled, her body turning on in a flash. Watching others engage in sex should be something forbidden, but it didn’t feel that way. While it was a shock, she couldn’t look away. Didn’t want to. Instead, she imagined herself up on that stage, so free, so wanton, able to stand the stares of others on her skin. To see the desire etched in their faces for her, as they did now. To submit her body to the care and pleasure of someone stronger than her, someone who wouldn’t let her down.
Someone she could trust.
The female screamed her release, and the male stiffened behind her with a harsh groan. Several in the audience moaned as well, the timing too coincidental, but very real. Johanna's breath caught.
The lights on the stage plunged into darkness as the room’s overhead turned up a bit, though not much, and just like that, her connection to the stage broke. She looked around, then up at Brady. He studied her, his face inscrutable, as if waiting, or bracing, for her reaction. Why her best friend would bring her to a place like this was beyond her. She couldn’t seem to keep up with any rational thought process in order to try and figure it out. She’d never given him a hint—hell, she hadn’t even known she’d want to—that she’d want to attend a place like this. Sure, she’d heard of sex clubs before, knew that in a city the size of New York there’d be plenty of them around, but she’d been with one man, one time, and that experience hadn’t had her wanting to jump back into bed again anytime soon.
Pretty sad for someone who was twenty-six years old.
Sure, she’d given herself pleasure, but that wasn’t the same as receiving one from another’s hands. Instinctually, as if her body was curious, she took in Brady’s hands. Long fingers, a wide palm with calluses that would surely catch on the fragile material of her dress. Would he build her up slowly with those hands, or would he work her into a fast frenzy over and over again?
What was she thinking? This was Brady.
“Why did you bring me here?” she asked.
“Hold on a second. What just went through your mind?” he countered, instead of answering her question. She tilted her face. His gaze was still on her. She wished for once he’d give something, anything away with his expressions. His hand tightened on hers.
“I—I…” She tried to find the words that wouldn’t disclose what she really felt. That the scene turned her on more than she’d ever been before. That she wondered what it’d be like to have Brady take her to that stage. That her mind was having these betraying thoughts. That tonight had cemented a pivotal change in their relationship. Things would never be the same, regardless of them having sex or not.
Not that she thought he brought her here to have sex. No way. He’d never given her any indication that he’d be interested in her like that.
“Joey,” he murmured and drew her closer, “don’t overthink this. If you’re uncomfortable, we’ll leave. Just say the word.”
“I’m not uncomfortable,” she said. A sound drew her attention back to the stage. It seemed to be rotating, and instead of the bench and chair, this new room had a bed covered in a thick, lacy white comforter. A woman sat on the bed, her head bowed, while a man stood off to the side. As soon as the stage stopped rotating, the man stepped forward and brushed his fingers along the woman’s face. Her sigh reached across the room. The audience held their breath, anticipating what would come next.
“What’s happening?” she whispered.
“Come,” he said, tugging on her hand. He drew her into the crowd, gently easing past bodies. Her attention darted back to the stage time and time again. The female still sat on the bed, but now her head tipped back. The man leaned down and kissed her, the act anything but normal. There was a sensuality in the kiss, a need driving the scene, rather than acting things out. What the couple engaged in seemed normal, as if they were in the privacy of their own room, not in a club full of strangers. And still, even in the objectification of the scene, the trust between the couple was a visible string tying them together.
The man pulled back and eased the woman from the bed, then led her to the wrought iron pole at the end. He stepped into her and kissed her. Johanna’s heart sighed. This was what she wanted to experience again. Not necessarily just sex. But the story that was told in the act. This was why she wanted to take a lover. To build a deep connection to someone.
Brady shifted behind her and set their linked hands on her stomach. So in tune with the scene, she hadn’t realized they stopped moving. She risked a quick glance over her shoulder, but found his attention on the scene as well, his lips parted ever so. Again, nothing in his expression told her what he thought.
She faced forward. The man had pulled the woman’s arms over her head and tied them to a railing that held sheer drapery around the bed. Her white negligee rode high on her legs with the pose, something the man paid attention to if his hands teasing along the top of her thighs were any indication. He inched up the negligee, baring the woman’s skin so slowly Johanna thought she’d scream. Instead, her breath punched out with harsh pants and she squeezed her nails into the only thing she could find, Brady’s arm.
He hissed and gently smoothed her grip. His hand, though, now lay against her stomach, his palm so wide the pinkie reached the top of her pelvis and his thumb brushed beneath her breasts. She should feel embarrassed, with his hand over her stomach, where extra weight lingered, but Johanna couldn’t feel much of anything but hot and turned on.
Her nipples tightened. The area between her legs grew moist. And tingles spread low in her tummy.
“Do you like watching?” Brady’s voice rumbled in her ear. The vibrations sent an erotic shock down the length of her spine.
“Why did you bring me here?” she asked inanely again.
Silence sounded loud from behind her while moans f
rom the stage filled the air. The man had pulled the woman’s negligee up until the material covered her eyes, and he had his dark head dipped toward her chest.
“You need an outlet,” Brady finally said, his mouth next to her ear. “I’ve seen you wind yourself up tighter than a helix these past two years, and more recently with taking care of your mom. You need to find someplace where you can be who you need to be, a place where you can let go. I think,” he said and seemed to hesitate for a few seconds, “that you might find yourself in a place like this.”
She drew her brows together in thought, unable to take her gaze off the stage. “So you thought a sex club was the place I should do that? You know me so well you honestly think I’d want to let go in a place such as this?”
“Don’t get your damn panties in a twist. It’s not like that. There’s something deeper that goes on here.”
“Then what is it? Because for the life of me, I can’t seem to understand how you would think it’d be appropriate for me, someone who has had sex once, who has built this larger than life reputation in the city, the face of domestic violence? You think bringing me here would somehow be what I need. And really, with everything I’m dealing with, did you think this would be the place I’d want to spend my free time out?”
“You know I’m just as upset about your mom, Joey. Her mind is deteriorating, and because of the abuse she’s been through, it’s progressing pretty fast, but you have her in a home now, so that isn’t any excuse you can use tonight. And don’t get me started on your vigilante justice bullshit. When’s the last time you’ve been with a man? Even to just let him touch you.” His lips brushed below her ear.
She shivered. “I don’t think my orgasms are any of your business.”
“I didn’t ask when the last time you pleasured yourself was. I asked when was the last time you let a man between your thighs. When you laid with someone that wasn’t a piece of vibrating plastic. Someone who had a heartbeat, that could generate heat like you, that could make you moan with surprise.”