Controlled Chaos

by Christina C Jones

  I preferred not to think too hard about the sexual proclivities of my family members, but I wouldn’t front – I’d been grateful as hell when Lincoln, the more level-headed of the Drake twins had pulled me aside to slip a card into my hand, for a certain hyper-exclusive underground club.

  “You’re looking way too stressed about this restaurant, cuz. Do yourself a favor… pay this address a visit. Before you give yourself a heart attack.”

  It had taken a bit of… exploration. But, before long, I’d figure out the exact thing I needed to relieve some of the overwhelming strain of this business.

  I had to let go of some control.

  To be controlled.

  To be at someone else’s… mercy.

  And goddamn had I found the fucking one.

  Just the thought of the nameless, faceless woman who’d had my dick in her hands just a few hours ago made me hard enough to have to shift in my seat. Tonight, more than ever, I felt like the terms we’d established were ridiculous – if I’d been inside her, been able to have more than just her hands on me… there’s no way I’d still be thinking about that fucking review.

  Shit… I’d still be there right now, instead of back at the restaurant, willing my dick to go back down so I could make my hourly appearance on the floor. With the review still open on the screen, I closed the laptop, forcing myself to think about how I’d first felt when I read it.

  That did the trick, making my stomach hurt and my dick deflate.

  I’d just pulled my office door open when one of the servers came rushing up, catching my attention.

  “Mr. Clarke,” she gushed, stopping in front of me with wide eyes. “You said you wanted to know if anybody from Sugar&Spice magazine came in again.”

  I nodded, waving a hand to urge her on. “Yes, I’m aware… and?”

  “There’s a whole table of them.”

  That made my stomach do more than hurt – the motherfucker did a whole backflip before I licked my dry lips, and gave her a nod. Outwardly, I knew I wasn’t giving anything away, but inwardly… there was a slight thread of panic.

  This was something I would send Addison to handle, if he were here.

  Instead, he was somewhere probably balls deep in Samara, and of no help. So I followed the server, Angela, out to the floor, letting her point me in the direction of what may as well have been a firing squad as far as I was concerned.

  A gorgeous firing squad, but dangerous nonetheless.

  There were three women – one a pretty chocolate sister with lavender hair, one much lighter, with big natural curls. The other was seated with her back to me, so I couldn’t really see her until I’d fully approached the table.

  And… well… damn.

  Glowing dark toffee skin, and a slightly-upturned nose that had probably gotten her labeled cute as a child. But with those intensely dark eyes and full lips that looked pillow-soft and… kinda familiar… there was nothing “cute” about this woman.

  “Ladies… I’m Andre Clarke, the manager – I hope everything tonight has been up to standard?” I asked, forcing myself to direct the question to the whole table, instead of staring only at the one who’d most caught my attention.

  “Everything has been great – did our server feel like something was wrong?” the woman with the lavender hair asked, frowning.

  “No,” I assured. “But I understand you ladies are affiliated with Sugar&Spice magazine, and we have a lot of respect for our Black publications around here, so I thought I’d personally drop by and say hello.”

  “Hello,” the one with natural hair chirped, putting her margarita glass down long enough to offer a hand. “I’m Raisa – home décor and DIY. This is Bianca,” she said, gesturing to the woman at her left. “She’s all fashion and beauty content. And that young lady over there is Drew – our resident foodie.”

  My eyes went wide as I registered the name.

  “Drew Dawson?” I asked, and those sparkling dark eyes of her lit with sudden interest that hadn’t been there before.

  Her lips curved ever-so-slightly. “Yes?”

  “So you’re the one who told the world I had a stick up my ass, huh?”

  Across the table, her friends burst into laughter, probably not helped by the fact that they were drinking. Drew, however, didn’t laugh – her mouth did turn into a full-blown smile though, sly and sexy.

  “Oh. So… you read that, huh?”

  “As I said – I have a strong respect for S&S, so of course I read it,” I told her. “I also reached out with a request for you to come back, now that we’ve been open a little longer and had a chance to fall into a better groove. You declined.”

  “I did,” she nodded, propping her elbows on the table and leaning in, in a way that put her full breasts on delicious display. “I don’t really do… second chances. I like to be impressed the first time. And unlike the metaphor I used in the review… I don’t answer the phone when I don’t get mine.”

  “And yet, here you are,” I countered, realizing now why she’d looked familiar when I walked up. When we first got that review, months back, I’d clicked her name on the review to go to her professional page on the Sugar&Spice website. She was pretty there, sure, but the picture was doing her no real favors – maybe it was old, but it was only barely reminiscent of the fine ass woman in front of me now.

  She smirked. “Only because my friends insisted. If it was up to me… I’d never have stepped foot in here again.”

  I put a hand to my chest. “That’s harsh, Ms. Dawson. I’d love to hear what we could’ve done to improve your experience – this time or last time,” I offered, only for her to shake her head.

  “For starters, I don’t ever want to speak to the manager unless I asked to speak to the manager. You are entirely too buttoned up my guy, and it’s blowing my vibe. I’m going to the bathroom,” she told her friends, then pushed up from the table and walked off, effectively dismissing me.

  Only… there was no dismissing the effect she had.

  See… the more she’d talked, the more connections were made in my brain, to the point I’d just realized… that old ass bad picture on the website wasn’t the only place she was familiar from.

  Her voice.

  Those lips.

  Those eyes.

  Those ample, plush curves, and the swing in her hips as she walked away.

  The sway of that fucking braided ponytail I’d wanted to grab earlier, using it to guide her mouth, instead of her hands, to my dick.

  I muttered something to Bianca and Raisa, then took off after Drew. It was just my luck that I kept getting stopped to answer questions and shit from the staff, but I still managed to catch her as she was leaving the bathroom.

  Grabbing her by the wrist, I pulled her into the opposite hall, ignoring her protests until we were in the privacy of my locked office.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” she asked, trying to snatch away from me, but that only made me grip her harder as I pulled her body flush with mine.

  “Did you know?” I countered, grabbing her other wrist too. “When you wrote that review, did you know?”

  “Did I know what? That your ass was fucking crazy? No!”

  Shit.

  Okay.

  Maybe it was a little crazy to have dragged her in here, so I let her wrists go, but stayed between her and the door.

  “You’re telling me you don’t recognize me?!”

  With a huff, she crossed her arms. “Really nigga? I understand your family is one of the families around here, but you’re really going with do you know who I am? That’s your energy? Really?”

  “What? No,” I insisted, realizing that no… she really didn’t know who I was – and not in the way she meant it.

  “Look motherfucker,” she snapped, nostrils flared as she interrupted anything else I might have to say. “I understand your little feelings were hurt about the review, but you’re not going to change how I felt about it. Get over it, and let me the fuck out
ta this room.”

  Those last words were delivered with pure fire, accompanied by a sternly jabbed finger as she got right in my face, not a single shred of fear as she delivered that demand.

  Before I knew it, my hand was around her neck and my mouth was on hers, swallowing her gasp of surprise. My other hand grabbed a handful of ass, dragging her into me so she could feel the effect that defiant ass energy had on me.

  I wanted her, bad.

  That was no excuse for how we’d ended up here, and there was a fair chance my ass was going to jail tonight behind it.

  More than fair.

  But then she moaned into my mouth, and I knew… she fucking felt it too. I pulled back just enough to look her right in the eyes.

  “Tell me you still don’t know who I am,” I challenged, and her lips parted like she was just realizing now – not when I’d snatched her up and tried to swallow her mouth.

  “Shit,” she whispered, taking a step back that I allowed, releasing my grip on her. She put a hand to her mouth, touching her lip like my taste and sensation were foreign to her, but they weren’t.

  And she knew it.

  “Wow. Um… so this is... wow.” her chest heaved as she spoke, making it hard to look away, since I knew what glory was hiding underneath her clothes.

  “I agree,” I said, closing the space she’d made between us. “I knew you were fine, but… damn.”

  She smirked, stepping aside in a way that I matched, until we were circling each other. “The feeling is mutual. But… what happens at the club is supposed to stay at the club. That’s the rule.”

  “I don’t give a fuck about that rule,” I countered, planting my feet so I could look her right in the face. “At all.”

  Drew laughed, shaking her head, making that damn ponytail swing. “You? Mr. Stickler?” she laughed again, so clearly at my expense that it… made me even harder. “I very much doubt that you’re comfortable with breaking a rule. You’re a good boy.”

  Before she could react, I grabbed her by the ponytail like I’d wanted, pulling her mouth back to mine. This time, my free hand went up the front of her shirt, finding a hard nipple to squeeze –liberty I’d never been able to take with her before.

  It earned me a smack across the face that only turned me on more before she tried – and failed – to shove me away from her.

  Her dark eyes blazed with lust as she snatched a handful of my tie, right at the base of my neck, and squeezed.

  “Get on your fucking knees, Andre,” she snapped, and I did that shit immediately, without a single care for how disheveled I’d surely look after this. “Shoes,” she said, and I got the hint – this was something we’d never done before, but I’d go with the flow.

  She held up one foot, then the other, in front of me, and I took the fucking shoes off her.

  Then the jeans.

  Then the panties.

  Then, her sweet pussy was right in front of my face – surely this was the gateway to heaven. Her long, pointed nails grazed my scalp as she pushed my head back, staring me right in the eyes as she hooked a thigh over my shoulder.

  “Make me cum,” she demanded. “And you’d better not let me fall.”

  No.

  Fucking.

  Problem.

  I grabbed her by the ass in a firm grip and dove face-first between her thighs, taking a deep inhale before allowing myself that first swipe of my tongue. She tasted just as good as I’d imagined – as I’d known – she would, and from there… I couldn’t have held back if I wanted to.

  I couldn’t help myself.

  I sucked her clit into my mouth, licking and lapping at her like she was the fucking water bowl on a hot summer day – a precious commodity. With her thigh up on my shoulder, she was completely open, completely accessible to be devoured like I wanted, with my fingers in her pussy and my face planted so deep there was nothing else for my senses to take in.

  Her smell, her tastes, her wetness, the vibration of her thighs and the sounds of her moans as she came in my face, hard.

  Finally.

  Finally I’d gotten more of her.

  After I’d licked her clean, she staggered away from me on wobbly legs, refusing my help to get dressed.

  “Meet me back at the club,” I pressed, catching her before she could leave the office. I’d caught her from behind, pulling her against me and murmuring the words into her ear.

  “My friends are waiting for me. Wondering about me,” she said, shaking her head. “And I have a deadline. And it’s late.”

  “All these excuses… when you know you want to taste me too.”

  She whimpered at that, dropping the frosty exterior to turn and face me. “I’m supposed to be in charge.”

  “Then take the fuckin’ reins, Drew.”

  She bit her lip, moaning again as I pressed into her, making sure she understood how hard I was – and that this wasn’t just a game to me.

  It was critical.

  “Step. Back.”

  That bossy tone was back, so I did it, raising my hands as I moved away from her.

  With her shoulders lifted, chin high, she pinned me with a glare. “I’ll get to you when I get to you.” She cut her eyes away from me as she opened the door, then stopped to turn to me again. “And… you don’t nut unless I give it to you. Got it?”

  Shit.

  After what had just happened, and her declaration of getting to me when she got to me, I was already planning on me and my hand becoming better acquainted.

  But… I nodded, earning a smirk before she slipped fully out, closing the door behind her.

  I had no doubts it would be well worth the wait.

  3

  Drew

  I was never supposed to know his name.

  I didn’t want to know his name.

  In fact, for the past few months I’d gotten quite a kick out of moving around my normal life in Blackwood, wondering if I’d just walked past him on the street, rode an elevator with him, accepted a delivery from him, whatever.

  Not knowing made it… hotter.

  Or so I thought.

  Cause I had feelings about the full impact of that handsome face, and watching it buried between my thighs. And not just some average dude on the street either – somebody well outside my typical dating pool.

  Andre fucking Clarke.

  Of course I’d seen him before – everybody had seen him and his fine ass brothers. Addison was the popular one – young and highly visible on social media, all that, but all three were “known” as part of the Blackwood scene.

  Three issues ago, they’d been on a Sugar&Spice cover.

  Most Eligible Bachelors.

  It was a popular issue, and a popular shoot, but I hadn’t been as obsessed over it as many others had. Not enough to study them.

  Now though, I kinda wished I had.

  Because maybe then, I would have recognized him before he’d snatched me up and put his tongue down my throat – or hell, maybe not, because… what?

  Never, not in a hundred years would I have thought Andre Clarke would want to be tied and whipped, want to be even lightly… dominated.

  By me.

  Seriously… what the fuck?

  Two weeks had passed since I’d gotten to see what he could do with his mouth, and I still couldn’t stop thinking about it. He hadn’t reached out through the club, and I wanted to feel slighted by that until I remembered what I told him – that I would be the one to say when it happened again.

  That he couldn’t cum until I said so.

  I wondered if he was holding up his end of that bargain.

  Really… I wasn’t even sure why I’d said that to him – where it had come from. The slap, the demand for him to get on his knees, to undress me… none of that was part of our anonymous norm.

  And yet… it had felt so completely, utterly natural.

  And… good.

  Prior to happening upon the club – well, not “happening” upon it, more like hearing
rumors and asking the right questions until I found it – I’d never done anything like that.

  Not even close.

  Now though, here I was… demanding a grown-ass man to not bust a nut until I told him he could. And I was very, very into it.

  But… maybe he’d been waiting long enough?

  Even though it was the middle of the day, and I was sitting at my desk in the Sugar & Spice offices, supposed to be editing an article about eating abroad… I pulled out my phone. Navigating to the club’s secure app, I did something I’d actually never gone through with before…

  I requested his presence.

  I’d almost done it before, but always lost my nerve – and he usually ended up sending his own request hours later, like he’d read my mind. I’d never wanted to seem… too needy. Too pressed. Now though, we’d made a shift in the dynamic, and this request didn’t make me weak.

  It made me the one in charge.

  Which… made me more than a little hot and bothered.

  Jemma’s article could wait – I rarely had much, if anything, to suggest or change when it came to her anyway. I put my phone back in my desk and stepped out of my office, intending to go bug Bianca or Raisa, whichever one seemed less busy.

  And… also maybe tell them the real deal of where I’d disappeared to for so long after dinner that night.

  They seemed to buy my lie about Andre pulling me aside to talk about the review – were even a little pissed about it. That was his own fault though, that it was so easy to paint him as an asshole – he was professional in his approach, sure, but my off-duty server source had given the real deal – Andre expected excellence in that restaurant. And when he didn’t get it… there was hell to pay.

  I respected his drive though.

  My review probably didn’t make that very clear, but even though 81C wasn’t my vibe, I had a particular soft spot for Black men with a strong drive for success.

  It hadn’t always worked in my favor though.

  The difference with Andre, was that even though that server was transparent about the demanding streak, it was also clear that he was fair. Always expectant of hard work, but never malicious, or cruel. Not accepting any bullshit, but always ready to offer empathy and compassion.