by Marie Force
“I want you to bother me.” He rubs his hard cock against my back, and just that quickly, my body says yes to him even as my brain says hell no.
The elevator arrives on the ground floor with a ding. Before the doors can open, he reaches around me to press a button that keeps them closed.
“Be with me tonight,” he growls in my ear.
I want to. God, I want to, but we can’t go forward until we accept each other for who and what we are. I want to accept who he is, and I want him to let me into that part of his life. Until he’s willing to do that, freely and without reservation, I don’t see a way forward for us. That thought depresses me profoundly, but it helps me to stick to my plans rather than giving in to his powerful allure.
“I’ve got plans.”
“Cancel them.”
“No.”
“Addison, I’m coming over later—”
“Don’t bother. I won’t be home.”
“I’ll wait.”
“It’s your time to waste as you see fit.”
I wrench free of his hold and press the button to open the door, walking out ahead of him. I’m acutely aware of his gaze on me as I walk to my car, trying not to limp as I go. When I reach my car, I glance over at him, prepared to tell him to have a good night. I catch him looking around the parking lot, his gaze landing on a nondescript sedan parked on the far side of the lot.
I immediately put two and two together to get that he’s put me under surveillance. So that’s how he’s going to play it. Well, two can play at that game. I get into my car without another word to him. I drive away and watch the sedan pull out a short distance behind me, far enough that I won’t get suspicious, but close enough that I can’t get away.
I head to my dad’s in Redondo Beach, fighting rush-hour traffic and paying no attention whatsoever to my tail. Gordon’s team is top notch, but they’re no match for me. I’ve already formulated my plan by the time I arrive at my dad’s tiny house in the coastal town where I grew up. Though he’s made plenty of money working as a cameraman and artist, he’s never moved from the house where he lived with my mother before she died of a heart attack when I was twelve. He’s never gotten over losing his young wife so suddenly, and to my knowledge, he hasn’t been on a date in the fifteen years since she died. He doesn’t talk about it, at least not to me, but I know he’s still nursing his broken heart, and I hate that for him.
When he’s not on location filming, you can find Simon York in his pottery studio, which is our fancy name for the shed behind the house where he creates his works of art. And they are art. He makes a tidy profit from selling his pots, planters, window boxes and other household items in Southern California galleries.
Ignoring the sedan that parks down the street from me, I walk through the house to the studio, where he’s up to his elbows in muck as usual.
“This is a nice surprise,” he says without looking up from his wheel.
I kiss his cheek and take a bottle of water from the small fridge. “Whatcha making?”
“A pot.” He reaches a point where he can stop, and the whirl of the wheel goes quiet. That’s when he smiles up at me. “How’s my beautiful girl today?”
“Pretty good. How are you?”
Dark brows furrow over chocolate-brown eyes. Growing up, my friends used to tell me he was hot. I didn’t want to encourage that line of conversation, so I didn’t agree—or disagree. But I’m not blind. I can see that he’s incredibly handsome. “Been wondering when you were going to show your face around here after kissing that jackass Hayden Roth on national TV.”
Ugh, here we go. “I didn’t kiss him. He kissed me.”
“Either way, my beautiful daughter’s lips were on his.” This is said with a grimace.
“Oh please. You may be surprised to know that many people think Hayden is a catch.”
He gets up to wash his hands. Over his shoulder, he says, “I hope you’re not one of them.”
“What if I am?”
“Oh, Addison, come on. You’ve got to be kidding me. You could have any guy in the world. Why do you want one who has a hair-trigger temper and a surly personality?”
“That’s only one piece in a very complex puzzle, Dad.”
“So you’re saying I have something to worry about here?”
“It’s nothing for you to worry about.”
“Are you or are you not involved with him in a more-than-friends capacity?”
Flashbacks from last night pick that moment to appear in my mind, a glaring reminder of how involved I’ve already been with Hayden. “Define involved.”
“Addison!”
“Yes, I’m involved with him. Yes, I have feelings for him, and I have for a long time. And he has feelings for me. We’re figuring it out.”
“He’s going to hurt you.”
“Give me a little credit, will you? I know how to handle him.”
“If you say so.”
“Let’s talk about something else, such as when you’re going to get a love life of your own so you won’t be so concerned about mine.”
He rolls his eyes. “I’m perfectly content on my own, as you well know.”
“You could be happy rather than content.”
“What’s the difference?”
“There’s a huge difference. Look at Flynn. He would’ve said he was perfectly content before he met Natalie, but now he’d tell you there’re a million miles between content and happy.”
“I hear what you’re saying, but I’m not interested.”
That’s what he always says. Every single time this subject comes up, which isn’t as often as it used to. I’ve begun to give up on my long-held hope that he might take another chance on love. We’ll soon note the fifteenth anniversary of the day my mother died, and while I’ve moved forward, he remains firmly stuck in the past. It makes me sad when I think of him that way, but I can’t deny that he leads a full life that satisfies him. He says it’s enough. I try to believe him.
“You got anything to eat around here?”
“Always.” I follow him inside, where we make dinner together and share a bottle of wine that goes a long way toward calming the nerves that attack every time I think about my plans for later.
“I need a favor,” I say after we’ve washed and dried the dishes and tidied the kitchen.
“What’s that?”
“Could I leave my car here tonight? I’m meeting Tenley downtown, and I don’t want to drive.”
“Sure. You need a ride?”
“Nah, I’ll get an Uber.” I withdraw my phone and use the Uber app to summon a ride. I intentionally give a pickup address on the next street over. “They’ll be here in two minutes.” I kiss my dad’s cheek. “Thanks for dinner.”
“It was definitely my pleasure. Be careful with Hayden, you hear me?”
“I hear you. Don’t worry.”
“That’ll be the day.”
“Love you.”
“Love you, too, sweetheart.”
I consult my phone and groan dramatically, which is all part of my master plan. “Damn it, they’re on the wrong block. I’m going out the back to find them.”
He sees me out the back door and watches as I go through the gate to the next block, where I find the black Toyota Camry idling at the address I gave. I jump in the car, and the driver takes off toward my address in Santa Monica. And just that easily, I dodge the tail Hayden has put on me.
Chapter 10
I giggle to myself as I imagine his reaction at hearing they lost me. He’ll be out of his mind, just the way I want him.
The car drops me outside my building, where there’s no sign of Gordon’s men. I shower and change into a sexy black dress and four-inch heels that seem fitting for the outing I’ve got planned. I head down to the street level to watch for Tenley.
She pulls up a short time later in the white Mercedes G-Class SUV she says is essential to her styling business. I jump into the passenger seat, suppressing a gasp as the ha
rd seat connects with my tender ass. I take a careful look in the mirrors, trying to gauge whether we’re being followed. I don’t see any sign of the car that followed me earlier.
I breathe a little easier at knowing I’ve made a clean escape and shift in my seat, trying to find a comfortable position.
“You look hot,” she says, casting a sideways glance at me as she darts through traffic.
“You always look hot.” Her long dark hair is captured in a messy bun that’s deceptively casual. I can’t see her outfit in the dark, but I have no doubt she’s perfectly turned out in something no one else has seen yet. Such is the advantage of being one of Hollywood’s top stylists. As one of her close friends, I benefit from her designer castoffs.
“So this is all about research tonight, right?”
“Yep.”
“That’s all you can say?”
“Yep.”
“You have the coolest job. You know that?”
“No, you have the coolest job.”
“I’ve never had anyone ask me to do BDSM research in any of my jobs.”
Neither have I, but that’s not something she needs to know. The way I see it, this research is for a good cause. It’s about convincing my future husband that I can be the woman he needs in every way that matters to him.
My future husband… Where in the hell had that thought come from? Well, isn’t that what I want? Don’t I want everything with him? Hell, yes, I do. I want everything. I want forever with him, and I’m determined to show him there’s nothing he could ask of me that would be too much. Somehow I have to make him see that all I want from him is him—all of him.
I’m not blind to the faults my father has identified in Hayden. I’ve seen his foul temper and his surliness. But I’ve also seen the way he takes care of his mother, even after the many times she’s disappointed him. He never gives up on her, and I like to think the care he shows her is a much more accurate picture of who he really is than his temper or surliness.
“You’re quiet,” Tenley says when we’re stopped in traffic.
“Tell me more about Devon Black.”
“He’s hot as fuck, for one thing.”
“Have you…”
“I’ll never tell,” she says with a saucy grin that tells me she definitely has.
“So you participate in the lifestyle?”
“You could say that.”
“What’s it like?”
“Well,” she says with a sigh, “it’s amazing and intense and a little crazy at first. Being submissive to a man in bed takes some getting used to when you’re accustomed to calling the shots in the rest of your life.”
“How did you decide to try it?”
“I met Devon at a party one of my clients had. I was immediately intrigued. He invited me to his club, and one thing led to another.”
“Did he tell you about the club the night you met him?” I laugh at myself. “Sorry—I have so many questions.”
“No problem. Ask away. I’m an open book. You know that. And yes, he did tell me from the beginning that he’s a Dom and owns a club that caters to the BDSM lifestyle.”
“That wasn’t a turn-off to you?”
“Hell no. It was a turn-on. I’d never met a man who was so blatant about his sexuality. I mean, he owns a club that caters to his every desire. I liked that he was honest about it, you know? No games, no subterfuge. He was just out and proud. There’s a lot to be said for that level of honesty.”
“Yes, I can see the appeal.” I also understand why Hayden and Flynn can’t be out or proud. The Hollywood media would have a field day with that information. Still, Hayden could’ve trusted me with it. Who did he think I would tell? “So are you still seeing Devon?”
“I am. It’s been almost a year now.”
“I can’t believe you’ve kept such a big secret from me for so long!”
“I’m still not sure where it’s going, so I haven’t said much about it to anyone. He hasn’t met my family. I haven’t met his. We’ve kept it between us.”
“How come?”
“I’m not sure exactly. We don’t really talk about it all that much. We’re too busy having mind-altering sex.”
We share a laugh at the blunt way she says that.
“Sex that lasts for hours doesn’t leave much time for talking,” she adds.
“Hours…” I think about the two times I’ve been with Hayden and his amazing stamina both times. “You like that?”
“I didn’t think I would, but Devon has shown me the benefits of endurance.”
“Do you do it in public at the club?”
“We have.”
“Does the fear of being recognized scare you?”
She shrugs. “If someone recognizes me, it’s not like they’ll say anything. That’s the fastest way to get thrown out of the club. Security, safety and privacy are Devon’s top priorities at the club. It took me a while to believe I could really let go and submit in public without fear of it being all over town by morning. But the more time I spent at the club, the more I encountered people with far more to lose than I’ll ever have, and no one knew about them. Ugh, this fucking traffic. We don’t have time to get a drink before we hit the club. That’s okay. We can have one there.”
“So you’re an actual member now?”
“Yep. Got a card and everything.”
“Would you do what you do with Devon with other guys, or is it just him?”
“We’ve decided to be exclusive for now, so no, no other guys for me, but he’s offered to set up a threesome if I want to try it.”
I’m more fascinated by the second with this whole new side to my friend. “Do you?”
She glances over at me before returning her attention to the stop-and-go traffic. “I’m thinking about it. He says it would be incredible, and I believe he’d make sure it was for me.”
“What’s stopping you?”
“I wonder how I’d feel the next day knowing I’d had sex with two guys at the same time.”
“One of my college friends did it during Spring Break one year. Everyone knew, and she was mortified.”
“Did she like it while it was happening?”
“I think she was too trashed to remember much of it.”
“Ahh, so she went the liquid-courage route. That’s not an option at Devon’s club. They have a two-drink limit. Most of the better clubs do. They don’t want people getting into alcohol-fueled situations they’ll regret in the morning. Everyone has to be clearheaded and healthy to belong to his club.”
“He requires proof of health?”
“You bet. They have doctors on staff who do exams right onsite, so there’s no funny business with results. That’s something Devon doesn’t budge on. See our doctors, or no admittance.”
I swallow hard at the thought of being poked and prodded in order to obtain training, but I’ll do it if it gets me closer to understanding what makes Hayden tick.
We drive up into the hills, not far from where Flynn lives, and a few minutes later, Tenley takes a turn into a driveway that isn’t immediately visible from the road. I’m not sure what I expected, but the vast estate that unfolds before me is a surprise. It looks like someone’s house—a rich someone, but a private home nonetheless.
“We have to shut off our phones to go in there, so I always leave mine in the car.”
“I’ll do the same.” I power mine down and then do hers for her. I put them in the glove box for safekeeping.
The house has a stone façade with pillars and a grand entryway that’s staffed by handsome young men wearing black vests over white shirts with black bow ties.
One of them opens Tenley’s door and greets her by name.
“Hi, there,” she says. “This is my friend, Addison. Devon is expecting us.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He helps her out of the car while another hot young man helps me. “He let us know. You have a good night.”
“Thank you.” Tenley hooks her arm through mine a
s we make our way inside, where doors are opened for us by more beautiful employees—male and female.
“Is this where people who don’t score acting jobs come to pass the time until they get their big breaks?”
She laughs. “I tease Dev all the time about hiring from central casting.”
We reach a reception desk where Tenley presents her membership ID to be scanned by the attendant, another handsome young man. “I have a guest tonight.”
I’m given a detailed confidentiality form that outlines the rules of the club, the importance of confidentiality and a warning that violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. I sign and date it and return it to the attendant.
“Have a nice evening.” He presses a button that opens frosted glass doors with half of the Black Vice logo on each side.
Tenley clearly knows her way around the club and leads me up the grand staircase to what was probably once a ballroom. Today, it’s a fully functioning BDSM club. It’s almost too much to take in at one time. There are multiple stages where various performances are taking place. One has a topless woman working a pole with amazing skill and athleticism that captivates me as well as the men and women who watch her.
On another stage, a naked woman is bent over a bench of some sort. A man in tight black leather pants and no shirt is spanking her with an implement that looks like a ping-pong paddle.
I tear my gaze off that scene to take in the action on a third stage. A woman dressed in a black leather corset with fishnet stockings and spike heels is standing over a man lying prone on the floor before her. She digs her heel into his back, making him scream from the pain. Then she flips her hand, and I see that she’s holding a bullwhip. “She’s not going to… Oh my God!” The whip comes down on his back, and he screams even louder than he did the first time. “Holy hell.”
“She’s a dominatrix. Men pay top dollar to submit to her.”
I’m so transfixed by what I’m seeing that Tenley has to take me by the shoulders to steer me toward the bar. The rest of the room consists of tables and seating areas where people in street clothes and bondage attire are conversing over drinks. If you were to remove the stages and the costumes, it might resemble a regular nightclub. But there’s nothing “regular” about this place, at least not in my experience.
