WanttoGoPrivate

by M. A. Ellis

  Chris shook his head as Sam Henderson jogged across the floor and wrapped his arms around Isabel from behind. He’d seen the two embrace dozens of times in just the same manner but today, with Sam’s arms resting just above her breasts, Chris had a sudden urge to whack the geek-in-a-god’s-body across the room.

  “Hey, Sammy.” She tilted her head back to await his kiss and Chris focused on the column of her neck, knowing full well she’d be very discerning about what she would allow to encircle her pale skin. Diamonds and platinum, without doubt. Leather and D-rings? Probably not.

  Not yet. But maybe for the right Dom.

  “Hey, Chris. How’s it goin’, man? What put that I-need-to-bang-that grin on your face?”

  “Just thinking of your newest sister-in-law, bro. She and Luke were in here the other night. You guys sell your souls to the devil, or what? Only explanation for women wanting your scrawny asses,” he teased.

  The laugh he got in return was genuine. “Brave words, brother. All the way around. I’m the only one in the family who realizes you don’t have to have arms the size of smoked hams to be strong. Chicks dig the lean look.” He looked at Chris’ biceps and grinned. “My condolences, dude. I’m sure there are some biker mamas who’ll still find you doable.”

  “Right,” Chris laughed and looked at Isabel. “You waitin’ for the last member of the triumvirate or should I put your order in now? It’s probably going to get busy.”

  “He’s five minutes behind me, so now’s good,” Sam interjected. “We’ll take two fifteen-piece wings. One medium, one hot and two brews. What’re you having, babe?”

  She gave him a condescending look he failed to notice then glanced down at the menu once more before meeting Chris’ gaze. “I’ll have the Italian beef. Side salad instead of fries, no dressing. And tonight the check’s mine.”

  “No way—”

  “Can it, Henderson,” she said sternly. Chris didn’t miss the way Sam gave her his full attention, or the look of bewilderment on his face. His entire family wasn’t used to being put in their places. It was a sight to behold.

  “We’re celebrating, so I’m buying.”

  Chris went to the cash register to punch in their order but covertly watched them in the mirror, easily eavesdropping.

  “What’s going on? You know I hate looking like a kept man.”

  “You always have to bring that up, don’t you?”

  “You’re the hottest older broad I know. Even hotter than Luke’s babe, and she’s pretty fucking smokin’ if you crave a little more to hold on to.”

  “Which you do.”

  “Which I do,” he readily agreed. “So are we celebrating women with perfect asses?”

  “If she were, it’d be because you’re at her side,” Chris interjected, unable to let a prime opportunity pass as he placed their napkins and silverware in front of them.

  Isabel laughed and Sam flipped him off.

  “We’re celebrating the fact that by the time I leave here tonight, I’ll be back out there. Navigating the dating waters. And you and Stanley are going to help me figure out exactly what I want. Exactly what I need.”

  “I thought that’s what your GFs were for,” Sam stated in a worried tone.

  “They’ll just tell me what they think I want to hear. I want a real opinion. I want you guys to tell me exactly what you look for and what you want. Because I’m not sure I want to go with the same-old, same-old. I think I need something different.”

  “Holy shit.” Sam echoed Chris’ words in perfect unison and they stared at each other in disbelief.

  “Thanks, guys,” Isabel said with a totally faux pout. “Love the vote of confidence.”

  “Screw the beer, dude. Give me a double Maker’s, very little ice.”

  “Right,” Chris replied, relieved to be heading toward the far end of the bar. He hadn’t expected that sort of revelation from Isabel tonight. She’d been online for months and somewhere in the back of his deluded mind, he thought he’d have more time to figure shit out. To find a way to test the proverbial waters that could very well be a relationship with the extremely intelligent, undeniably sexy, possibly kinky Isabel Hall.

  Keep it together, dude. He was good at thinking on his feet. Always had been. This wouldn’t be any different. He’d listen, he’d review, he’d implement. It was that simple. He turned and saw the animated way her arms were moving and the pinched expression on Sam’s face.

  Not good. Not good at all.

  “When you get done adoring her from afar, can I get another Guinness?”

  Chris turned toward the man sitting at the curve of the bar and grimaced before grabbing a pint glass and reaching for the tap.

  “Mind your own business, Larry.”

  “Man, what you’re thinking is business. You’re undoubtedly going to be like everyone else and hit me up for a private room before it’s all over. If you can convince her to take that itsy-bitsy step to the dark side. My benevolence is starting to wear thin, my friend. I ought to be charging all my cronies double, for fuck’s sake. But she does have a great profile. Can you imagine the perfect downward slope of jawbone if she had a wiffle gag strapped around the back of her head?”

  Chris slammed the drink onto the cardboard coaster with enough force that pale foam sloshed over the side of the glass.

  “I don’t need running commentary on your particular perversions.”

  “Perversion has its merits. Ask my crazy ex-wife and the sales associate who just sold me my Bentley. You gotta check it out sometime soon. Sweet little ride. Purrs like a kitten…or a completely satisfied woman. So what’s the plan? And it better be something good because the other half of her pals-with-penises contingent just walked in. He’ll have her on the path to an older, rich husband and ironclad pre-nup before you can say ‘tie me up and call me Nancy’.”

  “Shit,” Chris muttered, watching as Stanley Hemple walked up to the bar.

  “Can denied orgasms and vibrating nipple clamps really compare to Veuve Cliquot and weekends at the governor’s compound?” Larry whispered. “You know he’s going to tell her to screw whatever site she’s thinking about and go for the one where she can hook another fat-cat millionaire. And old Stan being a financial advisor—”

  “How did you know she’s talking dating?”

  “All-but-empty bar and voices carry. Especially hers. She’s got that no-nonsense thing going most of the time, but when she laughs, man, that’s so real it makes you smile. Makes a part of you want to see her responses to other shit, doesn’t it?”

  Chris stared into the man’s knowing blue eyes and didn’t say a word.

  “In my opinion—”

  “Which no one really needs,” Chris interrupted, wanting to move back to the other end of the bar to hear what Stanley was about to contribute to the conversation.

  “You need to work that online-dating angle she’s going on about, but in a totally different way. Now wouldn’t it be easy if she just took the plunge and checked out the latest advice on MySecretMaster? You’ve met plenty of blogging babes on there who were searching for a means to experiment.”

  “That’s the difference, Larry. She’s looking for a date, not a Dom.”

  “Possibly,” he said, raising the glass to his lips.

  “Probably,” Chris replied.

  “But you’re getting that vibe. I can see it in your eyes. Enough that you’re considering enlightenment scenarios that will no doubt have you whacking off in the storeroom before the evening’s through.”

  “Give me some credit, man. I’d at least use the handicap stall.” Chris chuckled, ready to put an end to their conversation and head back toward Isabel.

  “Have you really tried to see if she harbors a need for something a little less vanilla?”

  “What am I supposed to do, Larry? Use my ninja-like skills and slap a pair of restraints on her while she’s holding the menu in front of her face?”

  “Well, that would be less than subtle, whic
h is probably the approach I’d tend to use,” he replied, pretending to give the idea a modicum of thought. “But if my ass were behind the bar, I’d make a comment about her watch or bracelet as I reached over and touched it. Right before I took both her wrists in my hands and gave them a nice firm squeeze. If she yanks her hands away, you’ve got your answer. If not…”

  The implication hung there as Larry took a healthy sip of his beer and wiggled his brows.

  “I’ll figure out something else,” Chris replied, glancing toward the three people at the other end of the bar. “Sam would be the obvious person to help me, but he’s trying to keep his proclivities to himself.”

  “I’m aware,” Larry said. “But he and your girl are pretty tight. If you tell him the truth, that you’re a mild-mannered bartender at night, ringleader of the Master blog by day, he might lend a hand. He knows you’re not into the crazy shit. The two of you have been in the same viewing rooms more than a handful of times. Your kink of choice is obviously similar. That’s if you trust him enough. And if you really think she might be looking for something different. With someone other than him.”

  “I trust him. And one thing I know from all these months of standing across a bar from Isabel is that she doesn’t hook up with her guy friends. And she’s got a ton of them.”

  “But does she consider you one?” Larry asked, standing.

  “Maybe. She should. I’ve never once hit on her.”

  “Of course you haven’t. Here.” Larry shifted his weight and took his wallet from his pants, flipped it open and handed Chris a business card. “Just in case you don’t have any lying around.”

  “You carry my blog card with you? I’m touched, Larry.”

  “Oh you’re touched all right. Aren’t we all? Give me ten minutes and I’ll have a few others with guys’ names, guys who don’t have jack shit going for them in the looks or ambition department. Guys who will make a surly bartender, who’s basically lying to the woman he’s attracted to just to get her near him, look like the catch of the century.”

  “You’re a good friend,” Chris replied, sticking the card in his back pocket. “I’ll work on a way to slip her the card.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m an idea guy, I’ve already figured that out. But if you end up with her hot little ass over your knee, you’ll owe me.”

  “Frightening thought,” Chris mumbled.

  “Just give her the assortment of cards I collect when she’s getting ready to leave. Tell her you overheard her recent plight and wanted to help by grabbing some contacts out of your Rolodex.”

  “I don’t have a fuckin’ Rolodex, Larry. Those disappeared somewhere in the eighties. Probably around the same time people considered your matchmaking methods normal.”

  “Whatever. Just hand over her change with the cards, tell her you thought of some guys she might want to check out, say goodnight and walk away. Easy as all get-out. She’ll find the one for your blog when she goes through them and, if she’s a closet sub or Domme, the very least she’ll want to do is sign up for your blog out of sheer curiosity. You have to approve your minions, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” Chris knew exactly where the plan was headed and he begrudgingly admitted it had merit. But it sounded way too easy, which experience had taught him was never the way to go. “It only works if she actually logs in.”

  “That’s right. So you’ve got to do some masterful weaving of bondage innuendo into your conversation tonight. Pull that off with her two sentries over there and you’ll climb a couple of rungs on my that-dude’s-fucking-amazing ladder.”

  “And isn’t that what I’m living for,” Chris said, picking up the familiar glossy, black card.

  “That and pussy,” Larry replied, standing up and looking around the room. “Plump and glistening and ready to be teased.”

  “It’s not just—”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it before. Whatever you have to tell yourself, man. Whatever you have to tell yourself. Me, I’m a realist. I’ll be back in a few with your red herrings.”

  Chris watched him walk toward a patron who was the main organizer of a social activities group and strike up a conversation. Larry was right about one thing—Sam and Stan would do their best to protect her and he needed to factor that in. A tiny voice screamed at him to think about everything else that needed to be considered to ensure he maintained his friendships as well as not having his teeth knocked down his throat.

  “Chris, I’m dyin’ down here. They’ve interrogated me so long I’m losing my voice. May I get another soda?”

  He heard Isabel’s happy voice and wicked thoughts raced through his mind. When you got right down to it, a straight smile was pretty overrated. And he’d rip his pearly whites out by hand if it meant her repeating those exact words in another setting. One where she was naked and bound and breathlessly following her I’m-dying-here comment with a pleading, Let me come. Which would definitely result in additional punishment for neglecting to say “please”.

  The Dom in him reared. He really had no choice.

  He stalked toward her, ignoring the men who sat at her sides. He slapped his hands onto the bar, the intended sound echoing loudly as he offered her the hottest look he could muster.

  “I’m right here, Isabel. Now tell me what you need.”

  Chapter Two

  Isabel whipped her head around, the noise startling her for a mere second before a precise memory shocked her more. She looked at Chris’ hands, watched as he rubbed his palms in small circles over the area he had just slapped and her heart accelerated. Memories of having her skirt slowly raised, of James’ grunt of approval sounding from somewhere behind her, of leather-clad thighs holding up her weight as she obediently lowered herself over his knees. And that first strike. The sensation of heat flooding her flesh before the pain was gently smoothed away in just the same circular motion, before another resounding blow was delivered and rubbed. Repeatedly, until she was shaking with the need to come.

  Embarrassment crept up her neck and she quickly met his gaze, only to suck in the breath she’d unwittingly been holding. His green gaze had darkened and he tilted his head back in a commanding manner she’d never noticed before. He straightened his lips and the small dimple she’d always found just a tiny bit sexy disappeared. In a matter of seconds her friendly neighborhood bartender had taken on the persona of the type of man she was thinking of reconnecting with. A man who demanded an answer for every question asked and an obedient response to every action proposed.

  “Tell me what you need.” His tone was a deep whisper and it didn’t leave time for her to consider anything more than controlling the urge to promptly answer. Honestly and without restraint.

  I want a man. One who knows exactly what I need without me saying it. One who doesn’t expect me to be the authority where our personal life is concerned. I’m so damn sick of being in control.

  “I need… I mean, I’d like…” She couldn’t look away and his eyes narrowed as he waited for an answer. Her voice sounded way too breathless to her ears, but the fact that Sam and Stan had continued to carry on their conversation and ignore her made Isabel think she was simply imagining the undercurrent—the compelling tone Chris used, the way his gaze seemed to convey that he knew exactly what she was thinking.

  She didn’t see a movement but the fingers of her left hand were suddenly enveloped in his warm grasp.

  “I like your watch,” he said, but he hadn’t moved his gaze one iota.

  She knew, without a doubt, he was daring her to look away. Taunting her. Which seemed so very ridiculous. Or maybe not, since she was obviously losing her mind.

  “The chain work seems pretty delicate. Like it’s super fragile. But I’ll bet it’s not. Not when it’s twined with another one just like it.”

  He turned her hand and she forced her eyes downward. His words, so seemingly innocent, had caused a fine sheen of moisture to break out over her chest and under her arms. His thumb brushed over the band, t
he two twisted chains moving ever so slightly against her pulse point.

  “Has it proven to be really strong, Isabel?” She hadn’t imagined the slight pressure he exerted and her body responded with the very real thrumming between her thighs. “It seems like it could probably take a great deal of punishment.”

  This time she heard the intake of her breath. Knew he did as well but when her eyes snapped upward, his face was back to normal, back to the jovial countenance she was familiar with. Kind eyes, easy smile, strong chin. Full and kissable lower lip.

  And where the hell did that come from?

  He moved his thumb slowly over the fleshy part of her hand before releasing it and she shook her head in an attempt to focus. Denying she and the girls hadn’t considered how hot he was would be a boldfaced lie. But he really wasn’t her type. She liked tall and lean. Like Sam. Not a strong, muscular, wide-shouldered build. Like Chris. But the most important thing she told herself was that while Chris was friendable, he wasn’t fuckable. And that’s how he would stay. He exuded an air of sexuality that tended to scream “player”. She wasn’t looking for a hook-up. She was looking for something different.

  Yes you are, Isabel. Something very, very different. And just for a sec, it seemed he was on the same page.

  “Are you shaking your head because you don’t want more to drink?” His voice held a decisively teasing tone.

  “No. I’ve had enough,” she said, encompassing more than just her need for libations. She took another deep breath and reached for her purse. “When you get a chance, may I get my check, please?”

  “Let me cash Larry out and I’ll be right back.” She watched as he walked to the opposite end of the bar, the V shape of his upper body seeming more pronounced from behind. He could probably fling her over one shoulder with arms like that. Take her somewhere secluded. Back her up against a wall and hold her wrists high above her head…

  “Babe, what are you doing? It’s only the second intermission.” Sam interrupted her thoughts before they spiraled any further out of control.

  “Sorry guys. I’m calling it a night. Sammy, just sign for my card and save the receipt for me.”