by Unknown
I extend my hand. “I’m Ivy.” He takes my delicate hand gently in his large muscled one. It’s warm and soft, and I can’t help but imagine it toying with my nipples or between my legs, cupping my sex.
“Max Kavanaugh,” he says. “What’s a beautiful woman like you doing in a place like this?” He releases my hand, somewhat reluctantly I like to imagine.
“Probably looking for the same thing you are,” I say.
“I hope not. Because if we’re both looking for a beautiful woman to take home, then I’m about to be monumentally disappointed.”
“I don’t think I could bear to see you disappointed,” I tease. A new couple enters the club and drifts near us to check their coats. I move to the side to give them room. The elevators chime again in succession as more people empty into the club. It’s quickly becoming crowded and noisy. “Would you like to go to the lounge to talk? It’s a bit quieter there.”
“After you,” he says as he motions for me to lead the way. I stroll in front of him and head for the gallery. “Do you come here often?” he asks.
I look at him with a raised eyebrow.
“No judgment, I swear.” He smiles and shrugs his shoulders apologetically. “You just seem familiar with the layout.”
“I know the owner, so I’ve been here before, but only when it’s closed. Never as a participant.” I pause for a sip of my drink. “Would it matter if I had?”
“Not in the least. What kind of hypocrite would that make me?” He lifts his glass to his lips. For some reason, I believe him.
“Why? Have you spent a lot of time here?” I ask.
“My membership card is hot off the presses. Would it matter if I had been?”
“Not at all.” I’m looking for someone to get my engine revving, not a life partner.
He places his warm hand on the small of my back and exerts a gentle pressure. We begin walking again. “What are you looking for, Ivy?”
I struggle to choose the right words. I know what I don’t want. Maybe that’s the right place to start. “Nothing serious. I’m looking for something friendly but casual. More than a one-night stand, less than a boyfriend.”
“Is there anything specific you’re looking for sexually?”
“I’m fine with missionary position in the dark,” I say with a wink. “I’m teasing, but I should actually share a few of my boundaries. They are a little atypical.” I slide one hand in the pocket of my dress pants and try to psych myself up to continue. Might as well get it out of the way now.
“Of course. But I’ll warn you, I’m quite taken with you. It’s going to take a lot to scare me off.” His hand is still warm against my lower back as we turn down the corridor and approach the gallery. I can already hear soft groans and grunts and the sound of wet skin slapping together.
“I don’t want traditional p-in-v sex.” I avoid all eye contact as I blurt it out. He doesn’t take his hand from my back and run screaming down the hall, so that’s a positive. I stare at the floor as I rush ahead with my prepared explanation. “I’ve never really indulged in casual sex before and I’d rather stick to oral and—”
“You don’t have to explain your choices to me.” He pulls me closer and brushes his lips against my cheek before whispering in my ear. “We’re two sexy adults with good imaginations. If we can’t come up with fun things to do with each other that don’t involve me ramming my cock into you, then we deserve to be bored.”
His words and understanding combine to send zingers of pleasure through me. I feel off balance. I put my free hand against his chest and push him back a little. I need my personal space.
“Do you have any boundaries you want to talk about?”
“I’m not looking for any sort of a relationship, but I’d prefer to keeps things exclusive while we’re seeing each other. Just to keep things simple and safe. I’m not a fan of things getting complicated.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” This could end up being the relationship I had always dreamed of.
“Anything else you want me to know?” he asks.
“I don’t do sleepovers,” I say. “Which is probably the best thing you’ve heard so far.”
“I don’t either.” He shrugs his shoulders. “I’m a horrible sleeper.”
We approach the windows. I peer into the first one. A woman is suspended spreadeagle in a sex swing. Two men kneel below her, both working her sex with their mouths. She cries out and bucks as the strong tongues slide through her wet seam and toy with her. It’s hot as hell, and I know I’ll lie in bed later tonight and think about this scene as I get myself off.
I reluctantly move away and continue to the next window, where some serious pony play is going on. I mean that literally. The woman wears a bridle gag and a butt plug tail. They are clearly consenting adults, but it triggers nothing inside me except discomfort and giggles. I quickly turn away and hope there is something more appealing coming up.
The next three are a mixed bag. Two guys are going crazy on each other in the third. They are extremely passionate and that makes it hot, but I’m not sure how comfortable Max is, so I move on quickly. The next two tableaus include a serious BDSM scene and the world’s most considerate gangbang. Again, hot as hell but not something I’d actually want to try myself. I’ve lived enough to know not all fantasies are meant to be acted on.
Then we reach the last window. A young, ripped guy is bound to a chair while a woman with an impressive gag reflex, or lack thereof, takes him deep, licking at his balls while she swallows him whole. He moans and bucks against his restraints, trying to fuck her mouth faster and harder, but she has all the control. The idea of teasing someone like this has me unbelievably aroused. I feel the wet warmth between my thighs, and I happily note the massive bulge at the front of Max’s dress pants.
“This is a nice palate cleanser,” he says as he stands beside me.
“Yeah. It’s pretty hot.” He takes my arm and guides me to the lounge. “What else are you interested in?”
“My tastes run a little left of vanilla, but nothing too crazy,” he says. “I don’t think so, anyway. I brought a list, if you want to look at it.”
I like a man who knows what he wants. I’m dying to see what’s on it.
“I’d love to take a peek,” I say as we step into the lounge together.
THE HOSTESS IN the lounge knows I’m Nova’s sister, so we’re seated at a prime booth with an upholstered raised back that provides comfort and much-needed privacy. I stare at the list tucked between my perfectly manicured fingers. I feel all warm and quivery, but my hands are as steady as stone.
The stationery itself is exquisite: heavyweight paper with a gunmetal gray name hand-engraved in medium gothic. Maximilian A. Kavanaugh. I’ve been around money long enough to know it must have cost a fortune. Pretty paper with some of the naughtiest things I’ve ever read scribbled in frantic black script. Like he had to go through with it before he lost his nerve. I had some experience with that myself. Bondage, prostate play, edging, pussy worship, teasing and denial.
“What does the A stand for?” I ask.
“The A?” He looks across the table and pauses mid-drink, lowering his glass to the table.
I tap one short but perfectly shaped, candy-apple red nail under the A on his stationery.
“Andrew.” He hesitates for a moment before draining his glass and leaning in closer to whisper conspiratorially in my ear. “That’s really the first question you have? After reading the bucket list of my deepest and darkest sexual desires? I was worried I’d freak you out.”
“You’d have to work pretty hard to shock me. We just walked past a woman wearing a saddle. There’s nothing that dark or deep on this list.” So he isn’t as bulletproof as he looks. Interesting. I never would have guessed he had a single insecurity. Not with the way he crossed the lounge with his James Bond walk, complete with perfect posture, confident gait, and eyes scanning the room like he owned the place. I imagine he’s one of those people who look
at home wherever they go.
“I will admit to being a little disturbed that you detailed everything on personalized stationery.” A grin creeps across his face as I tease him. “This is not the kind of thing you want to accidentally drop in the aisle of the grocery store for any stranger to pick up. Now that I’ve read it, I’m tempted to toss it in the fireplace.”
“I’ve been shot down before when I’ve tried to spice things up with women I was dating. I was hoping nothing would offend you.”
“I’m entirely game. Like you said, maybe a little south of vanilla. But who really wants vanilla? I would hardly expect an adrenaline junkie to be satisfied with missionary position in the dark a few times a week.”
“Adrenaline junkie?” He leans forward and rests his arms on the table. I gesture to his watch.
“A Bremont MBII. Choice for the discerning thrill-seeker. Let me guess. Rock climbing? Skydiving?”
“Both, actually.” The server approaches the table with our food and quickly slides our plates in front of us before wandering off. The lounge doesn’t have its own menu, but the kitchen at Champagne will send anything up if requested. “What other keen insights do you have about me?”
“Well, your suit is impeccably tailored, but the thing that really caught my attention is the edge of the tattoo I saw snaking out around your collarbone.”
He delves into his marinara and meatballs with impressive gusto. “I hope you don’t mind a little ink. It happens when you’re in the service for as many years as I was.”
“Oh, I love it. My mother always told me to look for a man with body art. Said it showed he wasn’t afraid to make a mistake he’d regret later.”
He laughs. “It’s one of my lesser regrets, believe it or not.”
“I’d also hazard a guess that you’re a boxer.”
“Really?” He sets down his fork and looks at me appraisingly.
“You’re confident, lean with broad shoulders and lats, and your nose looks like it’s been broken more than once.”
“I was hoping you’d say I radiate that scrappy confidence all fighters share. But still, I’m impressed.”
“Yeah?” I twirl my linguine around my fork while nestling it into my spoon for traction. I had almost ordered a salad, but once I realized we wouldn’t be getting intimate tonight I splurged on the linguine with clam sauce. I plan on finishing the entire plate. It’s nice not having to pretend to have a girlish appetite in front of a man.
“Um hmm—if you ever want to get into a different line of work, let me know. I always have use for someone that perceptive.”
“That’s a generous offer.” I catch the server’s attention and motion to my empty water glass. “And what is your line of work?”
“I own a private security firm. Co-own, I should say, with a few guys I worked with in the service.”
“Wouldn’t I need to know something about security, or surveillance, or weapons?”
“That’s the easy part—I can teach someone to do all that. It’s the things you can’t teach—like good instincts, attention to detail, perceptiveness—that are hard to find.”
The pasta fills me up quickly. I set my fork down and take a quick breather. “I actually just started a new job myself within the past few months,” I say. “Totally different career field, so it has been quite a learning curve.”
“What do you do now?”
“It’s a kind of counseling and advisory position,” I don’t like sounding so evasive, but I’m not ready to spill personal details yet. He presumably picks up on this, because he doesn’t pry for additional details. I appreciate it.
I push my plate aside and lean forward. “This is going to be fun,” I say in the sexiest voice I can muster. “I feel kind of like the slutty, open-minded college girl you could call back on campus when you felt horny. The one who never disappointed with hours of hot sex before sneaking off while you were in the shower.”
“God, you’re making me wish I went to college.” He reaches up and loosens his tie.
“Your success is even more impressive knowing you didn’t. You went straight into the service at 18?”
“I joined the service at 18. Put my time in, retired, and then had no clue what to do. I tried a few normal jobs, but they just didn’t fit.”
“I suppose it’s hard to work at Home Depot helping people choose the right deck stain once you’ve spent a few years knocking down doors in third-world countries.”
“Exactly. You learn to run at a constant state of vigilance, and it’s hard to shut that down on a moment’s notice. So I took a job as a mercenary for a big company out of D.C. Did that for a few years until I realized I could do a better job running it, so I started a company of my own with a couple of friends.”
“I imagine it’s quite stressful.” I down my water, and the server appears for a refill.
“A lot like being in the service.” He takes a bite of the garlic bread. “Boring as hell most of the time, but there’s that fear of something going wrong that’s always there right under the surface. And sometimes it does really suck to be the one in charge; I’m making decisions for everyone from the moment I wake up until the moment my head hits the pillow. It’s draining and—”
“You just need a little diversion. I understand.”
“And are you looking for a diversion, too?” he asks.
“My last relationship was complicated.” To say the least. “I want to get laid without all the drama, but I’m not interested in bed-hopping with questionable people from the bar scene.”
“The bar scene. Fun when you’re in your twenties. Sad when you get much past that.” He’s easy to talk to. His stories are funny, but he never dwells too long talking about himself. He asks me plenty of questions and seems genuinely interested in the answers. It’s rare to find a man who listens like that. We pause to exchange contact details and then notice the lounge is becoming crowded and others are waiting for tables.
Max pays the bill, including an absurdly generous tip, and escorts me to the elevators. We’re back to reality, walking through Champagne, in moments.
“May I walk you to your car?” he asks as he holds the front door open and I pass through.
“You just did.” I point to the silver Lexus parked three spots down from the door. I smile and shrug my shoulders. “I’m always lucky with parking.”
“I’ll still see you off safely.” He takes the keys from my hand, unlocks the car, and holds the driver’s door open for me, with his back to traffic so I can slide safely into my seat. I brush against him as I place one foot into the car and toss my handbag onto the passenger seat. He smells fresh and clean, like body wash or some sort of sensual cologne, and I can’t resist. I lean against him, wrap one hand behind his neck, and pull him down to my lips. His eager mouth finds mine and we press together. It is simultaneously chaste and dizzying. No tongue forces its way into my mouth. His lips don’t smash against mine with bruising force. But it is passionate nonetheless, and I can feel his heat and desire as he tenderly tastes my lips. He snakes his hand into my hair and wraps a giant arm around me, pulling me closer. I lean in and am startled by the strength of his erection.
“I can’t wait to see you again,” he says. “What do you have going on tomorrow?”
I CALL NOVA AS soon as I get home. I don’t worry about the lateness of the hour; I know she’ll be awake. She runs on a different schedule than most people.
She picks up on the second ring. “Am I good or am I good?” she asks.
“You were right, I admit it.” I can’t remember the last time I was so happy to be wrong. “I’m so excited I can’t sleep.”
“That’s what a few years of celibacy will do for you.” I wedge the phone between my ear and my shoulder as I pull on my pajama pants.
“You make me sound like a cautionary tale.” I pull on my tank top and jump under the covers. “People have gone much longer than I have without sex and still lived to tell about it.” My cat, Lucy, app
ears on the bed next to me. I stroke her furry head as she rubs against me.
“You are a cautionary tale. Of a beautiful woman in her prime who can’t get past one tragically unfortunate relationship.”
“I’m not a character in a Lifetime movie.” I tuck the covers around me, turn on the television, and flip through the channels.
She chuckles. “Well, now you’re going to be more like a character in a dirty, little, late-night cable movie.”
“Nova!” I cry in mock outrage. My cheeks are flushed, and I swear my heart is still racing from that kiss. I can’t remember the last time I was this excited about anything. “Did you see how handsome he is?”
“Of course,” she says. “Steely blue eyes. Muscles on his muscles. Can hold up his end of a conversation.” The smile on my face grows as she lists his delicious attributes. “Who do you think took his application? You know I personally interview everyone.”
“Only so you get first dibs on the most handsome, I imagine.” Nova is no wilting wallflower. She’s never had a problem going after what she wants, and she usually gets it.
“One of the many perks of being a small business owner, darling.” I hear the smile in her voice. She has sampled the goods many times. “Anyway, you know I’m phenomenal at reading people, and your man seems like one of the good ones. I want you to give him a chance.”
“I’ll give him a chance. In the sack.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it. Don’t throw out the baby with the bathwater.”
“We talked for a few hours and now you want us to pick out china patterns?”