Frisky Business (Kinky Chronicles, #5)

by Jodi Redford

  Think it’ll be that easy? That a taste of her will be enough?

  It had to be. If he was going to give in to this insanity, he had to be prepared to walk away from her for good. His life held no room for entanglements, and his preoccupation with Jane was a rope waiting to hang him.

  Then don’t do this. Save yourself before it’s too late.

  It was already past the point of no return. He’d known it was only a matter of time before his dick overruled his brain where Jane was concerned. It was a miracle he’d lasted this long.

  Grim resolve a noose sealing his fate, he hit the reply button on her email.

  Dear Jane,

  I have the perfect man for the job.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “You’re up to something.”

  Jane snapped out of her daze and peered at Sidney. “What? No. Why would you think that?”

  “Because this is the fifth time you’ve zoned out in the middle of our conversation. It’s either that or Marissa and I are super boring today.”

  “Yes, you guys really are. Hate to break it to you.” Her lie was met with a pair of balled up napkins pitched at her. “Okay, if you want to know the truth, I’m a little overtired. My sleeping habits have sucked balls the last couple of days.” Part of the reason being her encounter with Jack. The taunting specter of his drugging kiss ghosted into her brain every time she’d start to doze off. She’d wake up with a jolt, her body tingling and overheated, skin dampened with sweat.

  The other reason was the mind-blowing response she’d received from the escort agency.

  Originally she’d planned to call them, but that first restless night following the makeout session with Jack killed that idea dead in the water. For her own peace of mind, she’d needed to put a course of action in motion immediately.

  Whipping off that email had felt like a lifeline in a raging storm. It was the single-most smartest thing she’d done in a long time. Maybe ever.

  And come tomorrow night...well, hopefully, that’s exactly what she’d be doing. A lot. Because she wasn’t settling for B.O.B. anymore. Not after reading the reply to her email. When she’d initially opened the message her nerves had been oddly on edge. Ridiculous to fear rejection from an escort agency. Unless you gave them cause to suspect you were a closet serial killer, you were likely in like Flynn. All this crazy business with her missing mojo was fucking with her head. She’d slammed the last few gulps of her soda, wishing she’d spiked it with a hefty shot of vodka, and bit the bullet.

  Dear Jane,

  I have the perfect man for the job.

  Me.

  Who am I, you’re wondering? Let’s just call me your Master of Kink for the night. And forget this good fucking bullshit. There will be nothing remotely tame with the way I fuck you. You’ll get it dirty, hard, slow, and nasty as I feel like dishing it out. I won’t be satisfied until you’ve thoroughly soaked this ten-inch cock of mine. You didn’t mention a gag, but I might bring that along anyway. We don’t need the neighbors mistaking your orgasmic screams and calling the cops.

  And Jane? You better have that blindfold on when I come in or you’ll get spanked. I suspect you’re kinky enough to be into that kind of thing, so let me rephrase that. You’ll get spanked, but no follow-up ass rimming.

  Now be a good girl and take your hand out of your panties. I need you to let me know pronto when and where you’d like to meet.

  Sincerely,

  Master Kink

  How the hell did he know her hand would be inside her underwear?

  “Earth to Jane.”

  She jolted to awareness and blinked at Sid and Marissa again. “Err, sorry.”

  Marissa plopped her chin in her hand. “Dare I ask if Jack has anything to do with your sleepless nights?”

  “No.” Though it was a struggle, she managed to not drop her gaze from Marissa’s. “Why would he?”

  “I dunno. Things got kind of weird at dinner on Tuesday. I thought something might have happened when he drove you home.”

  “I already told you nothing happened.” In other words, she lied. Or as she preferred to phrase it, omitted the truth.

  Marissa sighed softly. “I was hoping he maybe got jealous about your porn star.”

  Sidney choked on a cough. “Porn star?”

  “Yeah, apparently she’s been seeing one,” Marissa supplied, helpfully digging the grave another foot deeper for Jane.

  Sidney pinned Jane with an accusing look. “Holding out on us?”

  Guilt crept over her, along with a phantom reminder she’d just as soon not have knocking on her conscious. “You’re a terrible liar, Jane. The sooner you give up this charade with the nonexistence porn star, the simpler your life will be.”

  Goddamn it. Why did her conscience and Jack Brewster’s damnable logic have to tag team her at the worst possible time? A horrible queasiness sloshing around in her belly, she resigned herself to the inevitable and blurted out the truth before she sank any further into her own bullshit. “There is no porn star. I made him up.” Gusting a weary breath, she glanced at Marissa. “I’m sorry I lied to you. Sometimes I say and do things even I don’t understand. I guess I just felt like a huge loser and inventing a big-dicked pornstar boyfriend made me feel better.” For about one hot minute.

  “You are not a loser,” Marissa scolded. “Why would you think such a thing?”

  Shit. The problem with truth was sometimes you couldn’t shut that baby up once it started squawking. “My mojo is gone.”

  Sid frowned. “You mean like Austin Powers?”

  “Exactly.”

  “You’re exaggerating.” Marissa reached across the cafeteria table and squeezed Jane’s fingers. “You’re going through a dry spell. That’s all. Happens to the best of us. Even you.”

  “I haven’t had sex in seven months.”

  Both of her friends gaped at her like they were waiting for the punchline to a not so hilarious joke. Marissa was the first to recover. “Are you sure it’s really been that long?”

  “Trust me, I’m sure. This morning I sneezed and a family of months flew out of my hoo-hah.” She caught Sidney’s valiant effort not to laugh. “Go ahead. If it wasn’t me I was talking about I’d be cracking a rib right now.”

  “Oh, honey.” Marissa shoved from her seat and crossed to Jane’s side of the table to smother her in a fierce hug.

  Jane squeezed her friend in return. “It’s okay. No one has died from lack of sex. I think. Besides, I’m on the fast track of turning that around and getting my mojo back. Starting tomorrow night.”

  Her expression intrigued, Marissa claimed the seat next to Jane. “What’s tomorrow night?”

  “I have a date with Master Kink.”

  Sidney raised an eyebrow. “Master Kink? With that name, he must have gotten teased horribly in school.”

  “But he was hugely popular with the girls.” Jane shot off a finger gun and blew the invisible smoke from her nails.

  “Um, please don’t take this the wrong way...” Marissa cleared her throat. “Is he a figment of your imagination? I’m only asking because this is the first we’re hearing about him.”

  “Kinda like the porn star, who was made up,” Sid pointed out shrewdly.

  I had that one coming. “He’s one hundred percent real. I didn’t know him before yesterday, hence why I didn’t say anything.”

  Skepticism continued to ride Sid’s features. “And how exactly did this meeting go down?” She shot up her hand when Jane opened her mouth. “No, I’ve figured it out. You were sitting in traffic and a stranger garbed in leather and a name tag identifying him as Master Kink jumped in your car. He then held aloft a mason jar filled with your mojo and proclaimed it won’t get handed over until you perform lewd acts with him that a Tijuana sex donkey would refuse to endorse.”

  “Puh-lease. My drive home is never that awesome.” She crumpled one of the previously lobbed napkins and sent it on a return flight to Sidney. “For your information, I took a
page out of Marissa’s book and hired a gigolo. Even snagged him at the same agency she used.” She caught Marissa’s strangled cough and shifted her focus. She easily deduced the cause for her friend’s bug-eyed stare. “Don’t worry, I didn’t give my last name and don’t intend to. There’s absolutely nothing to connect me to Trig.” She tapped her chin. “Although...I wonder if they would have given me a family discount?” Damn, why didn’t she think of that sooner?

  “Err, I’m not sure they do that,” Marissa stammered.

  “Suppose it makes no difference anyway since Trig no longer works there. Hey, I wonder if he’s acquainted with Master Kink?”

  “I have no idea. I can ask him. Um, was there anyone else you talked with at the agency?”

  “Nope. Just Kink. And technically we only conversed through email.”

  “Huh.”

  Jane squinted at Marissa. “What?”

  “Nothing. I hope your date goes well.”

  She relaxed her shoulders. “Thanks. I do too.” Her life depended on it. Okay, maybe that sounded a bit extreme. But it certainly felt like it was the case. If Master Kink and his ten-inch cock—holy shit—couldn’t exorcise Jack from her mind she truly was doomed.

  They spent the last ten minutes of their lunch break discussing options for Marissa’s bachelorette party. A welcome reprieve for Jane’s jagged nerves and the lingering stress of her uncertain future sanity. She leaned back in her seat. “Too bad Vegas is out of the question. We could get up to a lot of trouble there.”

  “Anywhere you are, trouble is bound to be an invited guest,” Sid countered.

  Jane sent her another finger gun salute before transferring her attention to Marissa. “Speaking of invites, if things work out with Master Kink would it be okay if I bring him to the wedding?”

  Sid chuckled. “Oh yes, Master Kink has to come. If for no other reason than to see that name card on the table.”

  Marissa expelled a sigh. “We can use his initials.”

  “Does that mean he can come?” Jane gave Marissa her best pleading puppy dog stare. It wasn’t merely her desire to rub Master Kink in Jack’s face that fueled her begging.

  Okay, it was ninety-nine percent the reason. The remaining sliver mostly centered around the possibility of her and Master Kink indulging in a quickie in the rose garden. After the ceremony wrapped up, of course. Look at me being all respectable and shit.

  Marissa cleared her throat. “I...don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

  She pumped her fist before wrapping her BFF in a bear hug. “You’re the bestest, my little slutterella.”

  Marissa squeezed her tight. “I really do hope it works out. You both deserve to be happy.”

  She tweaked her friend’s nose. “Aw, look at you being all sappy for Master Kink.”

  Her smile wistful, Marissa pulled away and grabbed her tote. Jane and Sidney took that as their cue to collect their own purses and make the trek to the elevators. They parted ways on their different floors, Jane the last one to make her journey to the suite of offices Elcon Data Systems occupied. She slid into her seat at her cubicle just as her neighboring co-worker popped his head over the partition.

  “Thank God you’re here. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

  Tell me something I don’t know. Rubbing her temple, she abandoned her chair to see what Reg had messed up this time around. As a result, she spent most of the remainder of her shift correcting her coworker’s batch of FUBAR’d files. Tedious work, but it lessened her preoccupation with glancing at the clock on her monitor. That said, she was beyond ready to get the fuck out of Dodge when five o’clock rolled around.

  She snatched her things and hustled out the door before Reg could fuck something else up. Two minutes later, she tossed her purse on the passenger seat of her convertible and punched the gas, squealing her tires as she booked it for the closest parking lot exit. A few drivers slashed her dirty looks, which she promptly returned with a cheery wave and a, “Eat my dust, bitches!”

  Some days she owned her obnoxiousness like a motherfucking boss.

  The drive to her condo was briefly waylaid with a stop at the Grand Traverse Pie Company for two humungous wedges of their Cherry Ganache. One helping for tonight and the other reserved for the morning. Breakfast of champions, baby. Salivating, she carried her calorie-laden treats into the kitchen and stashed them in the fridge.

  She made it five whole minutes before returning for one of the servings and carting it with her into the living room. Who said she didn’t have willpower? She kicked off her high heels and propped her feet on the coffee table. Snuggling the cardboard box against her boobs, she pointed her fork at the chocolate-glazed slice of decadence. “You are absolutely worth the forty-five minutes on the treadmill I’ll weasel out of doing tomorrow.”

  Giving an assertive nod, she scooped up a bite and sank her teeth into five-bajillion-calories with a blissful sigh. That whole thing about nothing tasting as good as skinny felt? Total load of horseshit. Anyone who thought otherwise should be tied to a chair and force-fed Nutella until they saw reason.

  She polished off the pie before recalling the can of whipped cream in the fridge. Sonofabitch. Her taste buds mourning the lost opportunity, she dashed off a quick mental note to correct the oversight with an extra dollop on tomorrow’s slice. Spying a stray smear of chocolate that somehow escaped her, she swiped the edge of the plate. Thoughts wandering to her upcoming date again, she licked the gooey sweetness from her finger.

  Chocolate and whipped cream. Could be an interesting addition. Maybe she should have put it on the list.

  Strike that. The element of surprise was a million times better. Not to mention, handing everything over to a man—herself included—was a whole new experience she intended to savor. Not that she was a total control freak in bed. She let the guy take the lead plenty of times. Unfortunately, there were also plenty of dudes who didn’t know what the hell they were doing without getting a little—or in a few cases, a lot—of direction first. She’d even met a few who’d been completely clueless about where her clit was located. And her G-spot? Forget about it. GPS wouldn’t have helped those sad directionally-challenged bastards pinpoint that sucker.

  Ten to one Master Kink would have no trouble in that department.

  Her pussy tingled at the reminder of her mysterious gigolo. She didn’t have the foggiest clue what he looked like, yet she was still juiced up like crazy. Imagine if she did know. Damn, she should have requested a photo. Then there’d be no wondering if he matched up with the sinful lover she’d fabricated in her mind. Tall, chiseled and muscular. But not one of those neckless gym apes. Dark glossy hair. Strong, bold hands. Full, sexy lips that had a tendency to smirk.

  She hauled herself short when she realized who she’d just painted a picture of.

  Damn it, Jack Brewster, get out of my head. Grinding her teeth, she grabbed her plate and stalked to the kitchen. She dumped the china in the sink and yanked open the fridge door. Bypassing the second wedge of pie, she snatched the can of Reddi-Wip and squirted a hefty serving straight into her mouth. Convinced the indulgence would do nothing more than put her in a sugar coma, she returned the can to the shelf before closing the door and shuffling from the room with a grumble.

  Maybe if she read Master Kink’s emails again she’d be inspired with a new mental snapshot of him. Eager to give it a shot, she hustled to her home office and powered up her laptop. The frustrating device took a lifetime to load its startup files, prompting her groan and an energetic round of fidgety toe-tapping. Finally, she opened her inbox. The fourth entry down was a new email from Master Kink.

  Her stomach gurgled. Much as she wanted to blame the sensation on the fifty-thousand grams of sugar she’d recently consumed, her nerves were the true culprit.

  Was he canceling their date?

  Steeling herself, she clicked on the message. Only two brief sentences. The first, a single word—Chat—hyperlinked. It was the second line that piqued he
r interest. Grab the biggest vibrator you have.

  “Appears someone’s in the mood for a little cyber sex.” A wish she could easily accommodate. Grinning, she rushed to her bedroom and tugged open her toy drawer. She pawed through the vast selection until she located the best candidate for the job. The Orgasmenator. Ten inches of climax-producing silicone cock.

  Clutching her precious, she returned to her office and dropped into her chair. She set the Orgasmenator aside for the time being and clicked the hyperlink. An IM chat box immediately popped up. Master Kink’s screen name occupied the upper left corner, along with a solid green dot announcing he was already online. Had he been waiting for her, filled with this same anxious, horny anticipation? The possibility shooting a heady thrill through her, she quickly typed in a greeting. JC: I’m here.

  Damn, she’d completely forgotten her initials would show up too. Unlike him, she didn’t have a kinky alter ego to disguise her identity with. Oh well. On the bright side, at least she only used her initials with this IM service. Might have led to an awkward convo if her last name had shown up. Not that Campbell was a rare name or anything. He probably wouldn’t have put two and two together, much less given a rat’s ass that she was Trig’s sister. Highly doubtful that gigolos had a bro code.

  His response appeared in a bubble beneath hers, effectively distracting her. MK: Did you get the vibrator?

  Her Master of Kink was definitely equally hot to get this party rolling. JC: Largest one I own.

  MK: Big as me?

  JC: Ten incher. But for all I know, you’re lying about your size. She sincerely doubted it since it’d be all too easy to bust him when she was treated to the real thing in the flesh. Still, she’d feel like she was failing in her duties if she didn’t give him some grief.

  MK: Hm, tough crowd. I suppose you require photographic proof?

  Woah. She hadn’t expected this turn of events. “Remind me to be a sarcastic jackass more often.” Like that’d be a struggle.