by Erika Wilde
“I spent a few hours with Brent up in his private apartment,” Stephanie told her, because that’s how she saw him now. Mac was a hard-edged man with his guard up who had kept her at arm’s length for the past year. But Brent . . . he’d been the hot, irresistible dominant in the playroom, and the kind and caring man who’d wrapped her in a blanket afterward to keep her safe and warm while she came down from the sublime high of her orgasm.
Jillian shook her head, her expression confused. “Wait . . . did you say Brent?”
Stephanie nodded. “Yeah, you know, Mac,” she clarified.
“I know who Brent is,” Jillian said, still looking a bit surprised. “I’ve just never heard another woman call him that. Ever.”
“Ever?” Stephanie blinked at her friend in shock. “Not even at the club?”
“No. Ever,” she said again, meaningfully. “It’s always been Mac.”
Oh, wow. Stephanie wasn’t sure what to make of that, and her face warmed at the knowledge that she was possibly the only woman he’d given that permission to. “That’s what he asked me to call him while we were together Saturday night.”
“Did he now?” Jillian crossed one leg over the other, her eyes glimmering with a hint of concern. “I figured the two of you might hook up at the club after dancing around one another for the past year, but just be careful okay? I adore Mac because he’s like a brother to Dean . . . but I don’t want you to get hurt, either.”
“Physically?” Stephanie asked, unsure what Jillian was getting at.
“No, emotionally.”
“It’s not like that,” she said quickly, but after being so intimate with him on Saturday night . . . Stephanie couldn’t deny that seeing those two opposing sides to Mac had a given her a different perspective on who he really was and how she felt about him. The sex had been amazing, but would it have been as good if she hadn’t felt so connected to him? If she hadn’t trusted him enough to be so open and vulnerable during the experience? It was a startling, sobering thought.
“No, I’m sure it’s not like that right now,” Jillian went on while Stephanie tried to process her own realization. “Mac had a rough marriage, and for as long as I’ve known him, he’s never been in an exclusive, committed relationship . . . and there is the fact that he’s eleven years older than you.”
Her friend was trying to caution her in the nicest way possible, and Stephanie appreciated Jillian being so protective of her. “I know all that,” she assured her friend. “And he already made his stance on relationships, or the lack thereof, very clear.”
At the time, she’d felt the same way about anything long term . . . but what if she did want something more? She wasn’t looking for marriage and a white picket fence right now, only because she knew she had time. And she hadn’t been with any other man since breaking things off with Jack two years ago. In truth, she’d never been the kind of woman who went from one fling to another, either.
She wasn’t sure where all this left her with Mac, but she wasn’t ready to walk away from him just yet, either. The night at the club, he’d given her a taste of something she hadn’t known she’d craved, and right now, he was the only man she wanted to push those limits with . . . if he’d allow it.
Not wanting to dwell on her personal life, Stephanie steered the conversation to business, and for the next half hour, she and Jillian discussed a few upcoming projects. Once that was done, Stephanie ran her ideas by Jillian that she had for the other three suites at the club, and together they fleshed out the design elements for each one. By the time they were done and Jillian left her office to meet with a new client, Stephanie was excited to share her ideas with Mac.
Instead of calling him, she picked up her cell phone and shot him a quick text.
Do you have time this evening to get together so we can discuss my concepts for the other suites? Before she sent that message off, she decided to suggest a neutral territory, instead of meeting at a too suggestive atmosphere like the club that might make him wary. How about over an early dinner at Parq’s? Say, five thirty? she asked of the restaurant located downtown that was about the same driving distance for both of them from their respective offices.
There. It would be all about business, with no chance or opportunity to do anything intimate. Would she like to have sex with him at The Players Club—or anywhere else, for that matter—again? Definitely, but not when he was back to being on the defensive with her.
His reply came through surprisingly quickly. That sounds fine with me. I’ll make the reservations. See you then.
Well, that was easy, she thought, smiling to herself and suddenly very anxious to see him again.
* * *
Mac arrived at the restaurant a few minutes early to check in with the hostess and confirm the reservations he’d made for dinner. Stephanie hadn’t shown up yet, so he waited in the lobby for her to arrive so that they could be seated together.
He knew he should have stopped by The Players Club this week while she’d been working, mostly to see how the rooms were coming along, but ultimately decided against it. After their night together, and feeling as though his fascination and attraction to Stephanie had grown tenfold, he didn’t want to risk being alone with her again, and so soon. Especially not in a place where they’d be surrounded by all sorts of temptation.
Bottom line, he didn’t trust himself with her in a private setting.
Dinner in a public place was casual with no expectations, and more importantly, minus the lure of having everything at his disposal to do dirty, bad things to Stephanie again. Because since that night, his mind had conjured up some pretty wicked scenarios, all revolving around that sweet compliance of hers and just how far he might be able to test it.
A few minutes later, she walked through the entrance, and the dazzling smile that lit up her face when she saw him standing off to the side made him feel as though someone had just sucker-punched him in the stomach. What the fuck was up with that? He’d been around enough women to know his reaction was more than just mere attraction to Stephanie . . . this was different, because he was forced to admit that he was happy to see her . . . and Jesus Christ, he’d missed her. That he wanted to sit down and talk to her, just to hear her voice and enjoy listening to how much she loved her job, and what she had planned for the club’s three other fantasy rooms. The thought of her provoking him like she always did, and her sweet laughter filling the air between them, no longer annoyed him or put him on edge. No, now he was dying to hear the sound because it lightened something inside him that had felt heavy for much too long.
Those shifting, changing feelings inside of him were a whole fucking lot to process all at once. And even at that, he had no clue what to actually do with those unfamiliar emotions when it came to a woman he had no business falling for. In fact, he had a dozen reasons why he’d be smart to keep his distance from her, other than concluding their contractual agreement for the club.
She started toward him, wearing a navy blue business-appropriate dress, with a rounded collar and white pearl buttons down the front and the modest hem ending about an inch above her knee. She had on white practical pumps, and there was nothing overtly sexual or provocative about the outfit compared to the dress she’d worn to the club to deliberately tease him with. But as he took notice of her full breasts and the curve of her hips beneath the skim of material, he realized that it didn’t matter how covered up her body was, not when he had intimate knowledge of what she looked like naked. Of what those perky nipples tasted like against his tongue, and the cock-pulsing noises she made when he had his mouth doing sinful things to that sensitive spot between her smooth, supple thighs.
And then there was that feminine confidence of hers that showed in how she held her shoulders back with a determination that was sexy as hell, in the self-assured way she walked that drew glances, and the direct manner in which she held his gaze that put her on equal footing with him in the outside world.
He was beginning to see that stro
ng-willed attitude of hers in a whole new light. And was coming to appreciate and respect it, as well, which was a first for him.
A few seconds later, she reached him, and she leaned forward and placed a light, airy kiss on his cheek that sort of knocked him off-kilter for its spontaneity, not to mention the way her soft perfume filled his senses and shot immediate awareness straight to his cock. Which was probably her intent, because Stephanie had never shied away from doing things to keep him on his toes.
When she pulled back, her blue eyes sparkled playfully. “Good to see you, Brent.”
He raised a dark, superior brow at the use of his given name out in public, even though he loved hearing her say it out loud. “That name was for you to use in the playroom,” he said, keeping his assertive voice low so that the people around them couldn’t hear his words.
She ran her fingers down the length of his tie before giving it a tug. “I like it, and it suits you,” she replied with an impudent shrug. “If you don’t like me calling you Brent, then spank me.”
Jesus fuck. His mouth twitched with humor, even as the center of his hand itched to feel her soft, smooth ass heating his palm as he followed through on her cheeky dare. There was never a dull moment around this woman . . . and that was just one more thing that was beginning to appeal to him.
“MacMillan, party of two?” the hostess asked, coming up to them.
“Yes, that’s us,” Mac acknowledged with a nod.
He let Stephanie precede him as they made their way through the restaurant to one of the booths he’d requested. This one was a half circle, and instead of sitting across from him as he’d expected, Stephanie scooted over so that when he settled in, she was seated directly to his left . . . and within touching distance. Which wasn’t going to happen, he lectured himself.
The hostess gave them the menu to peruse, along with the wine list, and when the waiter stopped by their table, Mac ordered a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc for the two of them to share. Once the young man was gone, Stephanie folded her arms on the table and tipped her head curiously at him.
“Ordering what I wanted to drink was kind of presumptuous of you, wouldn’t you say?”
She didn’t sound annoyed that he’d taken the liberty, just surprised, and a part of him admitted that he liked being able to anticipate certain things about her. “No, not presumptuous at all,” he said, setting his menu at the edge of the table. “You drink that kind of wine all the time when Jillian and Dean have get-togethers at their house. It was the logical choice.”
“Hmmm,” she replied thoughtfully.
“What does that hmmm mean?”
“I didn’t realize you were so observant when it came to something as mundane as my choice of wine to drink,” she explained, a too knowing smile on her pink lips. “Better be careful, Brent, or I might think you’re more interested in me than you let on.”
He laughed, because he just couldn’t help it around her. “If there is any doubt in your mind about my interest and attraction to you after last Saturday night, then I’m really off my game.”
The way her eyes lit up told him she liked his answer. “So, does that mean there will be a repeat?”
Hell yes was what he wanted to say, but anything more with her was much too dangerous to his peace of mind. “No, probably not.”
He saw the disappointment chase across her face, but she didn’t get the chance to respond, since their waiter arrived at that moment to open their wine, pour their glasses, and take their dinner order. Even as he left the table, Mac wasn’t about to leave any kind of opening for Stephanie to question his reply, because a part of him feared that he’d cave in and give her anything and everything she desired.
“What do you have in mind for the other rooms at The Players Club?” he asked instead, steering the conversation to something much safer than the erotic images in his mind, of her being restrained for his pleasure a second time around.
She eased right into the change of topic, though her expression turned a bit hesitant before she spoke. “I want you to keep an open mind on these ideas, okay?”
He laughed again as he swirled his wine in his glass. “I kept an open mind about the Fifty Shades room, didn’t I?”
She grinned impishly. “Yes, but these concepts might take more effort to envision, but I promise the end results will be hot and sexy and maybe a little depraved.”
Oh, she definitely had his attention now. “Go on,” he encouraged, eager to hear what she considered kinky.
“I came up with a Beauty and the Beast theme,” she said, gauging his reaction as she continued. “No one has to dress up like the beast, well, unless they want to,” she said with a laugh. “This is all about imagery in the design, and what it implies. Forced captivity, being enslaved, that kind of thing.”
He mulled over the idea, which he didn’t hate. He could see the potential. “Okay.”
She took a sip of her wine before elaborating. “The décor would be red and black, with a bit of yellow mixed in. Mostly velvet, which fits in with the theme. I can see one of those pretty, life-sized birdcages to fit in with the captivity angle, and I’m thinking red roses with sharp thorns to enhance pain play, or just rose petals for those who don’t get off on being pricked with a thorn.”
The corner of his mouth twitched with a wicked grin. “Which category do you fall into?” he asked before he could censor himself.
She bit her bottom lip as she considered her answer. “I like both options, depending on the mood of the scene. I think one could be very erotic and the other extremely romantic.”
Yeah, he could easily imagine her in both scenarios. “I like the concept,” he said, giving her his approval to implement the design. “What else?”
“The next fantasy room would be a Tarzan theme, which would appeal to dominant men who like to beat on their chests,” she said, her tone humorous. “The décor would reflect a jungle, with brown and green tones. There would be vines and ropes for tying up partners, a sex swing, and soft, luxurious faux furs on the floor, and of course, a selection of toys to add to the fun.”
Her excitement grew with each idea she shared, and he had to admit he enjoyed watching her and listening to her creative process. “Definitely lots of possibilities with that room,” he agreed.
Before she could share her third fantasy room, their waiter arrived with their meals. He set a plate with grilled chicken breast and vegetables in front of Stephanie, and wild salmon and rice pilaf for Mac. They ate a few bites before she picked up where they’d left off.
“So, for the last concept, I’m thinking of doing an Alice in Wonderland kind of illusion,” she said as she cut her chicken—and seemed to hold her breath for his reaction.
He frowned, unable to conjure what a room like that would even look like. “I’m not quite feeling this one,” he admitted.
She grinned at him, clearly undeterred. “That’s because you’re not thinking in terms of just how kinky the Mad Hatter could be.”
“Okay,” he said with a shrug, figuring it couldn’t hurt to hear her out. “Enlighten me on that.”
“Imagine this,” she said, using her hands in an animated way to help him picture her words. “The door into the room is really the portal into this wonderland of everything sexually twisted and perverse.” Her eyes sparkled with an infectious energy as she wove the fantasy. “Alice is, of course, sweet, innocent, and submissive, and the Mad Hatter . . . well, he’s pretty much a deviant, and she finds herself in this world of pure debauchery. There is every kind of torture device to ensure that she’s bound, teased, spanked, and toyed with . . . the works,” she said, enabling him to envision her ingenuity.
“I’m thinking colorful, iridescent beads hanging from the walls and psychedelic up lighting and furnishings to complete the fantasy,” she said, then took a drink of her wine that emptied the glass. “You could also flip things and make the woman in the scene the infamous evil Red Queen, who could totally be a dominatrix.”
&
nbsp; “Not my thing,” he said, but this wasn’t all about his personal tastes and he did want to appeal to both male and female fantasies. “But yeah, some couples love that stuff.”
“And instead of a scepter, she can use a violet wand for electro-play,” Stephanie proposed, a tinge of enthusiasm in her voice.
Mac almost choked on a bite of his salmon at that last suggestion, even if it was on point. He swallowed hard and asked, “What do you know about violet wands and electro-play?”
Her light laughter held just enough sensual warmth to heat Mac’s blood. “I already told you. I do my homework.”
Before he could stop it, his mind was filling with vivid images of her strapped to that St. Andrew’s Cross again, with him holding the device that would deliver a stream of low-current electricity when it touched her skin, her nipples, or even her clit. Jesus, the thought of being the one to introduce her to that level of pleasure made his dick hard . . . unless her “homework” meant she’d already had intimate contact with a violet wand?
“Any personal experience?” he dared to ask.
“No, but it does intrigue me,” she said, her voice breathy enough to back up those words. “I mean, those nipple clamps you used on me were torturous, but in the end, the pleasure outweighed the pain. I’m curious to know if that’s the case with the violet wand.”
He already knew she was adventurous enough to give it a try . . . except he didn’t want any other man doing the deed or giving her another sexual “first.” He wanted all those goddamned firsts for himself. Jesus, he was such a greedy, selfish bastard, but when it came to Stephanie, it was a reaction he found increasingly difficult to keep in check.
Much to his relief, their waiter stopped by to check on them and refill their glasses with wine, putting an end to the direction in which their conversation had been heading. As they finished their dinner, they instead talked about other inconsequential things—current events, what he did at Noble and Associates, his time in the military, favorite movies and books, and where he lived.
