A Daring Journey: The Dare Menage Series, Book 6

by Jeanne St. James

  He should leave. But seeing Damon the other night had wrecked him. Especially when he saw that this “Mac” Damon had a date with was a woman.

  Truthfully, it probably would have bothered him just as much if Mac had been another man.

  He hadn’t pushed it, he let Damon leave with his date without another incident. Instead, Trevor had sat at the bar and did something he normally didn’t do anymore, drank until some of the sharp edges of the pain had dulled.

  Then he went home.

  Or back to his apartment, more like it. He had only moved in a few weeks ago so it still didn’t feel like home.

  Truthfully, nothing felt like home since the day he left Damon all those years ago.

  It had taken too long to realize Damon was “home” to him. Not being with him made Trevor homeless.

  No matter what, he couldn’t keep standing in front of Damon’s home pitying himself.

  But he struggled to pull himself from that darkness caused by missing a man so deeply that it was crippling. Damon had always been his light that kept that restlessness at bay, until Trevor had done something stupid and extinguished it.

  As he lifted his hand to knock again, a car pulling into the driveway had him turning his head. The garage door lifted as the black Lexus sedan with tinted windows remained in the driveway, even after the door was open.

  Trevor waited. The car waited.

  Trevor’s heart thumped heavily in his chest, but he couldn’t make himself unfreeze his feet from the concrete stoop.

  Then the engine revved slightly as the car pulled into the garage. Before Trevor could force himself to move, the garage door closed.

  He remained at the front door, willing it to open.

  Fifteen minutes later, he nodded, whispered, “I’m sorry,” turned on his heels and went back to his car.

  Damon wasn’t ready to forgive him.

  Quite possibly, he might never be.

  Mac lifted the fork to her lips, but before she took a bite of salad, she set it back down on her plate.

  Damon sipped his Seven and Seven, then smiled at her over the rim of his glass. “Not hungry?”

  Mac leaned forward a little in her seat and met his dark brown eyes with a smile tugging at her lips. “Very hungry.”

  He put his glass down on the table and tipped his eyes to her salad. “But you’re not eating.”

  “That’s not what I’m hungry for.” Mac glanced at his own Cesar salad. “You haven’t touched yours, either.”

  “It’s hard to concentrate on food when something much more enticing is sitting on the other side of the table.”

  Heat rose into Mac’s cheeks. Not from embarrassment. From anticipation.

  Damon was right. It was a heady aphrodisiac.

  “And now that beautiful face is flushed. It makes me want to discover everywhere else the blood has rushed.” That made her squirm in her seat a little and his smile widened. “I’m having the same problem. I can’t get our conversation from last night out of my head.”

  “I wouldn’t quite call that a conversation,” she countered.

  “What would you call it?”

  “Fun.”

  His deep laugh didn’t help the blood rushing to a specific area.

  “That’s certainly one way to describe it.” He downed the rest of his drink, then lifted his hand for their waiter. When the man rushed over, Damon said, “As soon as our entrees are finished, please box them up, so we can take them to go. Also, throw in a very generous slice of your Ebony and Ivory cake. I seem to have a sweet tooth tonight.”

  After Damon thanked him, the waiter gave him a nod and rushed away.

  Mac’s lips twitched. “Ebony and Ivory cake?”

  “It’s very good. You’ve never had it?”

  “Can’t say I have.”

  “It’s alternating layers of moist, rich chocolate and vanilla cake, the filling, too. Then there’s chocolate ganache sinfully drizzled over the top, along with dark chocolate curls. Quite decadent.” He reached out and brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. “Like you.”

  He pressed his finger against the seam forcing her lips open slightly. When she touched the tip of her tongue to the pad, he dipped his thumb in farther and she sucked on it lightly.

  Damon’s nostrils flared, and his brown eyes got even darker as he stared at her lips. Her breath released in a puff as he slipped his thumb from her mouth and drew the wetness over her bottom lip.

  Suddenly the waiter was at their table again, clearing his throat. Damon ignored him, his eyes following the path of his thumb as he took his time trailing it down her chin, along the throbbing pulse in her neck, stopping at the hollow of her throat. Then, and only then, did he sit back, let his hand drop away and turn his attention to the server who held a large bag.

  “Your meals, sir.”

  Mac didn’t look at the waiter, but instead kept her gaze glued to Damon’s long fingers as he accepted the bag from the man, placed it on the table, then pulled out his wallet. He tucked his credit card into the check holder the waiter had also handed him and then gave it back without looking at the bill.

  “We can split it,” Mac murmured before the waiter turned away.

  Damon gave a nod to excuse the waiter, who had hesitated, then turned back to Mac. “Unnecessary.”

  “It’s only fair,” she insisted.

  “To who?”

  “You.”

  “It’s my pleasure to buy you dinner, MacKenzie. I just don’t want to waste any more time here. I’d rather have it later, once our other hungers have been fed. But no matter what, we’ll be having dinner in bed. Only the question is, whose bed?”

  Should she invite him over to her place? She just assumed they would go to his after dinner.

  He continued, “We’ve only just begun to get to know each other and I want you to feel comfortable, so you choose. Your place? Mine? Somewhere neutral like a hotel?”

  “On the phone last night, where did you picture us?”

  “In my bed.”

  “Then that’s where we’ll go.”

  A slow smile crossed his face. “As soon as the waiter returns with the check, we can go. You can follow me in your car, so you can leave at any time. I want you to be completely open and honest with me, MacKenzie. If anything I say or do bothers you in even the slightest way, please tell me. Communication is crucial with me. Lack of communication can destroy something good. And I think we’ll be good together.”

  “In bed?”

  He tilted his head and covered the hand she had laid on the table with his, sweeping his thumb back and forth over her skin. “We’ll start there.”

  Within a half hour, Mac was following the black Lexus through a sleepy neighborhood in the suburbs located outside of Boston. It wasn’t a new, fancy neighborhood, but one with older, well-maintained homes. The kind of community you’d want to raise your children in. Most likely there was a cul-de-sac with a basketball net and they probably had a block party every Fourth of July. The late summer sun had begun to set while they were at the restaurant and now the light was quickly fading as she pulled up behind Damon in a driveway. He drove straight into the garage and got out of his car quickly as she was putting her own in park and unlatching her seatbelt.

  Even though he rushed over to her car to open the door for her, he did it with finesse.

  “Such a gentleman,” she murmured as he assisted her out, her hand clasped in his large, warm one.

  His lips twitched. “If you could read my thoughts you wouldn’t think so.”

  “If I could read your thoughts, I might drag you into my backseat and we’d surprise the neighbors.”

  “While that’s tempting, my bed is much larger than your back seat.”

  “You’ve never done it in the back of a Beetle?”

  He arched a brow. “Have you?”

  “Yes, I had one in high school. It’s where I lost my virginity.”

  He pulled back and lifted a hand. “Wait. Y
ou’re not a virgin?”

  Mac really liked him. One minute he was making her panties damp, the next she was laughing. “Now do you want me to split the bill?”

  He cupped her cheek and leaned closer until his lips were right above hers. “Absolutely not.” His warm breath swept over her parted lips. It was still slightly sweet and tangy from his earlier drink. “Can I kiss you?”

  “I’m standing in your driveway ready for you take me into your house and into your bed and you feel the need to ask that?” she whispered, surprised.

  “I was trying to be the gentleman you think I am.”

  “Right now, I don’t want you to be a gentleman.” She just wanted to feel his lips against hers.

  And then they were. He closed the slight gap between them, one second his lips were soft, the next they were hard and crushing and his tongue found hers. He explored every part of her, deepening the kiss, robbing her of her breath, of her thoughts.

  She groaned, her fingers tangling in his dress shirt. She was tempted to pull the shirt free from his pants, rip it off him so she could see and feel what she saw last night from afar. She couldn’t wait to touch his heated skin and explore every inch of his body. For him to do the same with her.

  That wasn’t going to happen any time soon if they continued kissing against her Volkswagen out in the driveway.

  Buuuuut... she wasn’t sure she wanted to stop kissing him, either. The fingers from one hand curled around her jaw, the other at her waist. That thumb of his sweeping back and forth against the fabric of her blouse. Between the kiss and that little bit of contact, her knees wobbled. She could very well melt into a puddle at his feet. When he shifted closer, his thick erection pressed against her hip, causing a rush of heat to shoot through her.

  She moaned, tempted to touch him, to trace his length through his black dress pants. But at the back of her mind was the reminder that they were standing out in the open, in his driveway, in the neighborhood where he lived. Anyone could be watching them, and she didn’t want to cause an issue for him with his neighbors.

  He broke the kiss first, brushing his lips over her cheek and pressing them to her ear. “I only care where we have sex the first time. After that, all bets are off. It could very well be in the shower, on the counter, against a wall, on the hood of your car, in the backseat of mine. I don’t care. But this first time, I want to explore you fully. Taste and touch you everywhere. And I can’t do that here.”

  “Not to mention, your neighbors may call the police,” she said breathlessly, her nipples peaked painfully. She was impatient for him to start tasting and touching.

  He pulled away and dropped his hand from her cheek but kept his other at her waist. Giving them space but keeping her close. “Yes, while they record us on their cell phones and the video goes viral on the internet. I could see getting called into the office come Monday morning and being handed my pink slip.”

  He plucked her car remote from her fingers and Mac heard her locks click. Instead of handing them back to her, he slipped them into his pocket. So much for being able to leave at any time. She’d have to ask for her keys back first if she wanted to bolt.

  She doubted she would be in a rush to go anywhere.

  Except inside.

  With his hand still at her waist, he steered her into the garage, past his Lexus and to a door that led into the house. He hit the garage door opener and Mac glanced over her shoulder as her means to escape disappeared.

  Damon had been nothing but a gentleman, so she had no reason to be nervous, right?

  He paused before escorting her inside. “You’re tense. Are you having second thoughts?”

  Was she?

  She glanced up and met his gaze which was searching her face.

  “It’s okay if you want to leave, MacKenzie, if you want to wait. I’m not going to stop you. Like I said earlier, I want you to be completely comfortable. And honest. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

  “I’m nervous. I’m sorry.”

  “What did I do to make you nervous?”

  “You put my keys in your pocket.”

  His body jerked against hers. “That’s all?”

  “Yes. You said I could leave whenever I wanted, but I can’t do that without my keys.”

  He dug his hand into his pocket and held the remote out to her. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t even aware of doing it. I always shove my keys in my pocket, so I don’t lose them. It’s habit.”

  Mac stared at the car remote that hung from his fingers between them. Now she felt like an idiot.

  As she reached for them, he pulled them away. “MacKenzie, one hundred percent honest, one hundred percent of the time. Remember that.” Then with his eyes serious, any humor long gone, he gave them to her.

  She nodded, and he escorted her inside.

  The door from the garage opened into what could be considered a “mud room” which held some coats, his washer and dryer tucked into an alcove, and a few pairs of shoes. With his broad hand to the small of her back, he propelled her farther into his home. After going through the mud room door, they stepped into a large kitchen with all the best stainless-steel appliances. While the house looked like it could’ve been built in the seventies, from what she could see so far, the interior looked to be updated. The colors were neutral but warm, including shades of tans and taupes.

  “Do you cook?”

  “When I’m home, yes. I eat out way too often when my schedule is busy. When I get a few days off, I prefer to cook. How about you?”

  “I do all right. I don’t eat out a lot or do take-out. It gets expensive. And since I work from home, sometimes when I take a break, I’ll try a new recipe.”

  “Ah, that’s right. A fraud investigator.”

  “Um, yes. But not for like the FBI or anything. For an insurance company.”

  “Yes, to keep the doctors from committing fraud when it comes to billing. You did say that. Interesting work.”

  “Not really. Nothing like being a pilot.”

  “At least you can get up and cook. I get up just to go to the bathroom.”

  “You’re in charge of the safety of a lot of people.”

  “And you keep doctors honest,” he countered.

  “And you like honesty.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “To a point. If I ask you if my outfit makes me look fat, then I might want you to fib.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. Mac loved when he did that. It was completely spontaneous, and he didn’t hold back. When he was done, he slipped the hand at her back to her hip and turned her to face him. His other hand found her other hip and he pulled her close, looking down into her face.

  “I like women who have soft curves.”

  “I have a few. What about men?”

  Damon tilted his head when he studied her. “My men are a different story. I like men lean.”

  “Why the difference?”

  His fingers slid from her hips up to her ribcage, stopping just below the curves of her breasts. Her nipples pebbled at how close he was.

  “I don’t know. It’s just what attracts me. I like a man with some strength who can handle everything I give him and beg for more. But when I’m with a woman, I love to just lavish attention on her soft curves. Lose myself in her breasts, her ass, her pussy. Her mouth. I appreciate the turn of her hip, or calf, or ankle. The line of her shoulder, the hollow of her throat. I like my women to be feminine. My men to be unbreakable.”

  Mac wasn’t sure what to think of that. While she understood a man liking a woman’s curves, the comment about him liking his men unbreakable made her wonder what he meant.

  Was he rougher during sex with a man than when he was with a woman? It might make sense if he was a man who thought women were more delicate.

  “I can see the curiosity on your face, MacKenzie. Honesty, remember?”

  Once again, that insistence with honesty. “You like rough sex.”

  “I like rough sex to a point. Then
there’s a line I won’t cross. Or don’t like to cross because it does nothing for me. I don’t hold it against anyone who’s into that, it’s just not for me.”

  “So, no BDSM for you.”

  “Again, there are some things I like, some things that turn me off. Are you disappointed in my answer? Are you into BDSM?”

  Mac quickly shook her head. “No. Not at all. I’ve never even dabbled in it. I’ve never had a partner who wanted anything than just normal—”

  “Vanilla.”

  “Yes, vanilla sex.”

  “Well, that sounds boring, but if that’s what you enjoy...” His words drifted off but not without a raise of tone at the end, making it an open question.

  “I’m completely open-minded and not afraid to try new things, I just haven’t really had the opportunity. However, I’m not sure if I’d want to be tied down to some bench and whipped or anything like that.”

  He feigned disappointment. “Ah, I’ll go hide my spanking bench.”

  Mac laughed, then sobered. “You’re joking, right?”

  “Yes, I’m joking. If I had one, I wouldn’t hide it. While I wouldn’t mind seeing the flesh of your ass ripple with each smack of my palm, then turn a beautiful shade of red to match your hair, I don’t need a bench for that. My lap works perfectly fine.”

  Mac struggled to take her next breath as an image of her naked lying across Damon’s lap as he spanked her filled her head.

  She swallowed hard and heat rushed into her cheeks.

  Damon smiled softly and raised his hands a little higher until they cupped the outer curves of her breasts. “Does that thought excite you or scare you?”

  “I... I think a little bit of both.”

  “Has a man never spanked you before?”

  “Not like that.”

  “How?”

  “Just... only when...”

  “Let me guess... The ol’ smacking of the ass while in doggy style,” he said dryly.

  Her cheeks were now burning up. “Yes. Is that wrong?”

  “No, not at all. But I enjoy giving a good spanking in other ways, too.”

  “Do you spank men when you have sex with them?”

  Damon released her and stepped back. His face was blank as he dropped his hands to his sides. “You’re very curious about what I do with men.”