by Sabrina York
She told that part of her to shut up.
It was a relief not having to worry about seeing him again.
It was.
“Hello darlings!” Avery cooed, giving Tara a hug. She hugged Bella and Holt as well. Holt got a little more than a hug. In fact, it took a scorching glower from Bella to put the kibosh on Avery’s groping. Fortunately Holt had a lot to grope. And he didn’t seem to mind. When she was finished manhandling him, she turned to Tara. “Where’s your lover?”
Perhaps it was the lurid tone with which Avery said the word, or the scorching rush that flooded Tara’s cheeks, but something snagged Bella’s attention and she gored Tara with an accusatory stare. “Your lover? You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend.”
“I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“I thought you were on hiatus.”
“I am.”
Avery tipped her head to the side. “What is this hiatus of which you speak?”
Tara crossed her arms and glared at them all. Holt’s grin did not amuse her.
“She’s gone off men.” Hell. Why did Bella have to put it that way? In front of Mel? Mel, who perked up like a beagle offered a slice of crispy bacon.
“Gone off men?” She sidled closer.
“Not like that,” Tara muttered. “I’m taking a break.”
“Hmm.” Avery tapped her plush lips with a finger. “Didn’t seem like that last night.”
“What?” Bella screeched. She whirled on Holt. “Did you know about this? Why am I always the last one to know about stuff like this?”
Tara bristled. “It’s nothing!”
“I saw the way he looked at you, sweetheart.” Avery cooed. “It wasn’t nothing.”
“It was a game of pool. That’s it. Nothing more. A. Game. Of. Pool.”
Clearly, Avery wasn’t buying Tara’s denial. Neither was Mel, but they exchanged a mischievous glance and let the topic drop.
“Here,” Mel said, handing each of them a party hat. “Put these on. And don’t peek.”
“Don’t peek?”
Mel pointed to her hat, an itty bitty top hat set at an improbable angle. There was a small card attached to it that said Marquis de Sade. “The game is, you have to find your partner.” Her long silver lashes fluttered as she winked.
Holt pulled Bella closer. “I have my partner.”
Avery rolled her eyes with a huge sigh. “You’re no fun, Holt.” She turned to Mel and grumbled, “Give them both A. N. Roquelaure.”
Mel pouted. “I don’t want to give them both A. N. Roquelaure. They have to play the game like everyone else.”
Holt growled and Mel reluctantly handed over their hats. But she deliberately thrust the pink princess cone with the flowing veil at Holt, and gave Bella the police hat. Bella was adorable in it, but of course, Holt switched them out. Tara had to admit, Holt looked much better as a sexy cop, especially dressed as he was in full leathers. Bella wore a matching outfit of tight leather pants and a sexy bustier, with a delicate jeweled collar. A perfect pair. And there was no doubt they were together.
For her part, Tara had worn her usual uniform of jeans and a blouse, but in a concession to the party theme, and thrown on Bella’s tightly nipped corset. It was enough to make her look the part, without all the added aggravation of wearing latex. Which she would never borrow from Bella anyway. Or anyone, for that matter.
“Here’s yours,” Mel said, setting a fluffy pair of bunny ears on her head.
“Bunny ears?” she squeaked. “Seriously?”
Mel snickered and taped a card to one of the ears. “Here you go. You have to mill around in the crowd and find your partner by asking yes or no questions about your card. There’s a prize for the first five pairs who find their mate. Except for you two because you’re cheating.” She waggled a finger at Bella and Holt.
“We’re not cheating,” Holt muttered. “We’re not even playing.”
Mel ignored him. “And, of course, a punishment for those who come in last.”
Tara glanced at her friends. She frowned when they both read her card and broke out laughing. “What?” she snapped.
“Nothing.” Holt scrubbed his lips, but the smile remained. Bella studied the ceiling and whistled.
Bastards.
“Well? What are you waiting for?” Avery said. “Go on in. Mingle. Have fun!”
“And no cheating,” Mel trilled.
“I hate this shit,” Tara muttered as they made their way across the airy great room toward the bar.
“At least it’s entertaining,” Holt said with a smirk.
Tara studied the assemblage. And yeah, it was entertaining. Men and women—and ones she wasn’t quite sure about—mingled and danced and laughed. Elves, sailors, firemen…even a guy in a fedora. All trying to get a peek at someone’s card. Some were in a clear frenzy to find their partner—and avoid Avery’s punishments. Though some were looking for a partner of another kind.
Avery typically opened her whole house for these parties. All of the rooms upstairs were available if a couple—or more than a couple—were so inclined. Most of the rooms had themes.
By midnight there would be a tangle of limbs somewhere—guaranteed.
Tara would be long gone by midnight.
If there was one saving grace at Avery’s parties, it was the fact she knew how to set up an excellent bar. Then again, when one played the kinds of games Avery and Mel preferred, it helped to get their guests a little drunk. Or a lot drunk.
Tara gestured to the bartender, a pretty boy slave dressed in a leather harness, vinyl underwear—and little else. “Gin,” she said. “Straight.” When he delivered it, she tossed it back and requested another.
“You better go find your partner,” Bella said. “Before you’re too plastered to form a question.”
“Why don’t you just tell me who I am?”
Bella chuckled. “What makes you think you’re a person?”
“Am I a person?”
Holt snorted. “Sort of.”
Bella smacked him. And then they both laughed.
It annoyed the crap out of Tara that they were in on a joke and she wasn’t. So she took her drink and plowed into the crowd, determined to find her stupid partner and end this stupid game.
She’d determined she wasn’t a spreader bar, a pair of handcuffs, a triskelion or O fairly quickly by walking up to people with those designations and simply asking if her card matched what she read on theirs. Mel would probably count that as cheating, but Tara didn’t care. It was, after all, a stupid game.
She was talking to Jonathan, a tall, slender guy in a cowboy hat who was looking for another squick when she saw him, standing there in the foyer, so tall and broad and staring directly at her. Of course he’d scored a sexy hat. And what was sexier than devil ears? Talk about appropriate. He was the very devil.
Her pulse leapt at the sight of him, her clit thrummed in an unbearable tattoo. It exasperated her, her response to him. If only her body would listen to her brain. She was not—not—in the market for a man. Flings led to relationships and relationships led to complications.
What she needed now was to focus on building her business.
Devlin Fox would not be helpful in that department.
Three burps proved that.
Three frickin burps.
Deliberately, she turned away and fixed her attention on the cowboy squick, though the words he was saying only hummed in her ears.
He was here.
She hadn’t expected him to come.
Then again, she had. Perhaps, in her heart of hearts, she’d hoped he would. Maybe that was why she’d decided to brave the whips and chains she knew were in her future…or someone’s future.
And surely he wasn’t even more magnificent than she recalled? It had only been a day since she’d seen him. A day since he’d buried himself deep within her, thrusting and panting and painting pleasure on her every nerve.
Unable to resist, she shot a peek in his direc
tion.
The moment their eyes met, he started toward her. Like a heat seeking missile.
Her heart stuttered. Her body flooded. Her muscles locked. She couldn’t move. She felt like a gazelle on the broad Serengeti, stalked by a lion, paralyzed by the anticipation of the coming onslaught and unable to escape. Unwilling to flee. Her destiny marched toward her through the milling throng of pirates and puppy dogs—and every other presence, every other voice in the room receded.
“Hi there.” An irritating buzz to her left. “Am I a switch?”
Tara blinked and turned to the fellow who had sidled up to her in Jonathan’s stead. Apparently he had given up on her. This guy was tall and thickly muscled, shaved bald and covered with tattoos. Also, he was dressed in full leathers. In her experience, guys who came to Avery’s parties in leathers were either Doms or wanna-be-doms. Regardless, the bobbling Martian antennae ruined the effect. “I beg your pardon?”
“My card. Does it say switch?” He leaned closer. “Cause I would be a switch for you.”
Oh God. He was coming on to her. Her stomach heaved. She wasn’t sure if it was humor, revulsion or keen anticipation. She could feel Devlin moving closer, as though they were connected by a vibrating thread. She forced herself to focus on this guy’s card. It said Master. “Ah, no. You are not a switch.”
He winked. “No problem. We can work it out. Do you…ah…wanna go upstairs?”
“Up…stairs?” Shit. He didn’t waste any time. Too bad she wasn’t in the market for an alien Dom.
A heavy arm fell over her shoulders. “Sorry dude,” Devlin’s deep voice rumbled in her ear. “She’s my switch.”
The Martian’s gaze flicked from Devlin’s card to hers and his hopeful expression crumbled. “Sorry man. I didn’t realize she was taken.” He melted back into the crowd, antennae bobbling.
Tara turned to Devlin. Her attention flicked up to his card. Switch. Her lips twitched. “Am I a switch?” she asked, though she knew. At least she was pretty sure.
“I dunno,” he grinned. “Are you?”
She smacked him gently on the shoulder. He’d dressed for the party, but barely. Jeans and a t-shirt seemed to be his standard attire. “Does my card say Switch?”
“Yes ma’am.”
She glanced at Avery, who was watching them from the bar and not bothering to hide her smirk. She lifted her glass, the bitch.”I guess we’re partners then.”
His grin broadened. “I guess we are.”
“Judging from Avery’s glee, this will be mortifying.”
“As well it should be.”
She nodded at his jean-clad legs. “I see you found another pair.”
“I packed extras.”
She nibbled her lip. “I, ah, hope you can keep these on.”
“I don’t.” His smile was infectious. Then the playful mood between them shifted into something darker. He leaned in and whispered, “Why did you leave?”
She turned away, staring at the partygoers, seeing nothing. She shrugged. “Wanted to avoid that whole awkward walk-of-shame thing.”
He tipped her chin back, met her eyes. “There’s no shame in what we did. In fact, it was fucking phenomenal.”
“Was it?” She regretted her flippant tone immediately as pain flashed over his features.
“It was for me.”
“Oh, all right,” she grumbled. “It was pretty fucking phenomenal.”
“I wanted to do it again.”
So had she. Not that she’d admit it to him. She shrugged. “It was fun. I guess.”
Though she wasn’t looking at him, she could feel the heat of his gaze. “You still owe me, you know.”
She froze. “What?”
“Peanut butter. Remember?”
She swallowed. Of course she remembered.
“But I’ll settle for your name.”
She flicked one of her ears. “Call me Thumper.”
His eyes narrowed. “I’m serious. I can find it out myself, but I’d like for you to tell me.”
They stood there, amid a sea of revelers, staring at each other. Tension thrummed between them.
She opened her mouth—surely not to tell him her name—when a loud hum, then a screech, rocked the room.
“Hello? Hello? Can you hear me?” A scratchy voice reverberated off the windows—only several hundred decibels too loud for human tolerance.
“Shit,” a bumble bee muttered. “Someone gave Avery a mic.”
“Hello everyone! And welcome to my fifth annual twenty-first birthday party!” A cheer rounded the room. “Has everyone found your partner?” A chorus of yeses, mingling with a couple nos, rose. “Right then. Everyone who’s found your partner, head on down to the dungeon. And you poor un-partnered souls…” She chuckled evilly. “You remain here to get suited up.”
“Holy crap,” Tara breathed, shooting a horrified glance at Devlin. “Suited up for what?”
He shrugged and guided her to the stairs. “It’s probably better not to ask.”
An exhilarating relief—that she’d found her partner before the game ended—rocketed through her.
She was sure that’s what it was.
What else could it be?
Chapter Nine
Avery, being the bossy boots she was, made all the “Losers”—dressed as ponies—stand at the back of the room—the room being her dungeon, buried deep in the basement of her mansion. She directed the “Winners” of the game to stand in a line at the front by the fireplace.
The lights were dim. Music thrummed in a low and heady beat. It was a large open space, punctuated with all the toys of her beloved lifestyle.
Tara had seen them all before. A St. Andrew’s Cross, a swing, wall manacles…but she’d never seen them festooned with party streamers and condom balloons. It did not make them less intimidating.
She comforted herself with the knowledge that even Avery would not force one of her partygoers to slip into the diabolical leather straitjacket hanging from a hook on the wall.
Then again…
“Okay everyone!” Avery crowed, clearly in her element. “It’s time for prizes. These clever pairs all found their partners first…” She waved at the ten of them standing in a row. “Each one of you win a prize. We’ll start with the gentlemen.” She carried a velvet bag down the line, urging the men to reach in and pull out a ball.
Christoff was the first to draw. He pulled out a red ball, read it and chuckled. “Spanking,” he announced.
Avery winked. “Well, it is my birthday. You knew there would be some spankings in there.” She affected a pout. “I deserve my presents too. Okay Christoff. You may select the partygoer of your choice and administer five spanks. If you choose one of the Losers you can double the spanks.”
A groan rose from the stable.
Christoff grinned. He fixated on Thomas, one of the ponies, who blushed crimson. Christoff sat on the big wooden throne—which was actually a bondage chair, judging from the leather straps on the arms—and patted his knee. The assemblage laughed as Thomas made his way over, trotting when Avery so commanded, and draped himself over Christoff’s lap. Christoff gleefully administered ten swats, accompanied by the chanted counts from the crowd.
When he stood, Thomas’ cheeks were red, but the look he sent Christoff was more scorching yet.
“Next!” Avery bellowed, holding up the bag for Jonathan—the cowboy. He pulled out a green ball which, he read, entitled him to a foot rub from the guest of his choice. His gaze rounded the room. When it settled on Tara, her belly lurched. Not that she didn’t like cowboys, but the thought of giving any guy a foot rub grossed her out. Because, in her experience, men could be very casual about changing their socks.
But when Devlin bristled and sent a fulminating frown down the line, Jonathan’s attention moved on and settled on Mel. “You,” he said.
Mel sputtered for a moment, but after a nudge from Avery she met Jonathan by the throne. She set her hands on her hips and barked, “Okay. Si
t down.”
But Jonathan didn’t sit down. He took Mel by the shoulders, angled her onto the throne and knelt at her feet. “The prize is a foot rub,” he said with a wink. “It doesn’t say I have to receive one.”
Mel’s mood shifted immediately. A grin wreathed her face and she kicked off her bejeweled sandals. “Well, in that case,” she murmured, burying her foot in his lap.
The foot rub went on for far too long—who knew Jonathan had a foot fetish? And while Mel didn’t complain, Avery did.
When Jonathan proved loath to relinquish his prize, Avery moved on to the next man in line. Andy pulled a blue ball. Everyone in the room groaned—every guy. They knew what a blue ball meant.
“Lap dance!” Avery chanted, and everyone joined in.
Andy chose Bella for his lap dance, which wasn’t very bright, because Holt stood over them as Bella performed, sending teasing looks over her shoulder at her man as she gyrated on Andy.
Needless to say, the lap dance didn’t last too long.
Probably on account of Holt’s snarling.
And then Avery sidled up to Devlin, the last man in the lineup.
Horror suffused Tara as Devlin reached into the velvet bag and pulled out a red ball. She knew, she just knew, what it said. Spanking. And she knew who he’d pick.
His lips quirked. He surveyed the room as though he were weighing the options. He stalled on Bella but, Tara suspected, only to get a rise out of Holt. It worked. Devlin chuckled and continued his leisurely perusal.
Her heart shouldn’t have been thudding like that. There was no reason to be so excited… Then it stopped altogether for a brief, painful moment. His gaze pierced her, goring her to her core. And he quirked his finger.
Damn.
She shouldn’t have come. She knew she shouldn’t have come. At the same time, the thought of being draped over those tree-like thighs, the thought of his broad palm on her ass, made her go hot then cold then hot again. The little hairs at her nape prickled. Her body liquefied.
She hardly even noticed the cheer going up around the room. Hardly noticed Avery’s chortle.
In a fog, she crossed the room and met him at the throne. He sat.