by Diane Leyne
* * * *
Micah watched as the woman accepted a bottle of beer from Trace and then thanked him before walking toward him and Dace. As she got closer, he could see that her eyes were a vivid green. They seemed to glow against her pale skin and were set off by her dark hair. She smiled, and before he could stand up and say or do anything, she had grabbed an empty chair from a nearby table and turned it so the back almost touched the side of the table between him and Dace. Then she placed her helmet and bottle of beer on the table, unzipped her jacket, straddled the chair, and turned to face him.
Dammit. She was a Domme. He’d considered the possibility with her clothing and attitude, but that move just seemed to seal the deal. She had to be with that kind of a move, but damned if he could get that through to his cock, which was still trying to stand at attention in his pants.
With her jacket undone, he could see the swells of her breasts over the top of her low-cut white tank top, with a low-cut black bra clearly visible through the thin material. If his cock hadn’t been rock hard before, it was trying to burst out of his jeans now.
How could he have ever thought she was a man when she walked in? She was wonderfully, gloriously female, and his dick was ready to explode. He swallowed hard. She yawned and he saw the tiredness in her face, and maybe a little sadness that he had a sudden urge to kiss away, but then all thought fled again as she stretched and the tank pulled tight over her full tits, which threatened to escape confinement. He knew he was staring, but he couldn’t seem to force his eyes back to her face. They were perfect, and he yearned to see them naked, maybe with their nipples clamped or maybe her entire breasts bound for his pleasure.
He took a deep breath and looked up. The stranger was clearly amused as she raised her bottle to her lips and took a healthy swallow. A drop of condensation ran down the bottle and then her neck, and Micah had an almost overwhelming urge to lean over and lick it from her skin. He glanced briefly over to Dace and saw he was similarly affected. Their eyes met and locked. Then Dace took a swallow of his beer just as the woman set down her own bottle, licked her lips, and sighed with satisfaction.
Suddenly, Dace started choking, but Micah was too stunned by the woman in front of him to move, and so it was the stranger who leaned over and slapped Dace hard on the back a couple of times before heading back to Trace and getting a bottle of water.
Why didn’t I think of that? he thought sourly as Dace winked at him while they waited for her return.
“Feeling better?” she asked solicitously then uncapped the bottle. Her voice was low and sexy and caused ripples up and down his spine. She handed the bottle to Dace and then rubbed his back some more. “Sip the water slowly,” she counseled as she continued rubbing his back soothingly. Lucky bastard.
“Yes, ma’am.”
He was definitely a bastard, thought Micah. Dace was a Dom, same as Micah. What was with that meek yes, ma’am? Thank you, that’s what he should have said. Even thank you, miss would have been okay, but yes, ma’am? Asshole. They might be best friends, but two could play at that game.
Micah half stood and held his hand out to the newcomer. “I’m Micah Durrance and I own The Whips and Spurs. If I can do anything for you, anything at all, please let me know.”
She put her hand in his, with an amused glance at a clearly annoyed Dace. “I’m Nicola.”
Her hand was small and smooth and soft, and he could feel the light pulse fluttering in her wrist as he stroked it with his thumb. It seemed to jump, and he hoped that he was having an effect on her, but then he saw Dace move.
“Dace Lowe.” Dace stood and held out his hand.
Micah glared at his friend for interrupting and reluctantly released her hand so she could shake Dace’s. “Sheriff Dace Lowe. Pleased to meet you, Nicola.”
“Howdy, Sheriff. I’ve never met a real sheriff before.” She put on a clearly fake Western accent, and it was sweet and charming. She looked at Dace appraisingly and then grinned. “Want to arrest me? I’m been a bad girl!” She pouted and held out her wrists as if waiting for a set of cuffs or restraints to be placed over them.
Micah had an overwhelming urge to drag her into the jail room in the club and cuff her to the bench before he fucked her brains out. He had to consciously get his breathing under control to stop from hyperventilating at the thought.
“Bad girls do need to be punished,” Dace teased back. “Maybe I should take you back to the station and give you a thorough spanking before I lock you up.”
Micah’s jaw dropped. Dammit, she was flirting with Dace, and he was flirting back. Dace never flirted, not in all the years Micah had known him. Dace was quiet, almost taciturn with women. He didn’t flirt! Women outside the lifestyle threw themselves at him. Even subs who were supposed to wait for a Dom to take the initiative threw themselves at him, too, excited at the thought of being disciplined by a real lawman. Dace just sat back and chose who he was in the mood to play with, but he never had to work for it and certainly never sweet-talked them. He was upfront, though, about not wanting anything serious, and never set out to break hearts. Micah and Dace mostly played together, so he knew Dace’s style with women really, really well. They preferred sharing a single sub, enjoying giving her the kind of pleasure only two mouths, two cocks, and four hands could give a woman.
He saw Nicola grin at Dace and give his back a final rub, and he felt his hard-on die as a wave of jealousy washed over him. He had never been jealous of Dace before and he didn’t like the feeling, but there was something about this woman that called to him on a visceral level. He’d never felt this kind of connection to another person before, and he was pretty sure he liked it, except when she was flirting with his friend and not him.
And then she turned and grinned at him, and his hard-on was back and the sun came out again. Damn. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman affected him like this. He took a sip of beer while he composed himself.
“So, Micah, do you want to spank me, too?”
It was Micah’s turn to choke, but Dace reacted faster than he had and it was his friend who smacked him on the back instead of the sexy Nicola. Micah glared at him.
“You okay, buddy?”
“I’m fine, Dace. Thanks ever so much,” said Micah dryly.
“Any time!” Dace grinned, and Micah gave him a look of annoyance as he grabbed the half-finished bottle of water and chugged some down.
“You both okay now?”
“Yeah, we’re fine.” Micah laughed. “So, what about you? I don’t remember ever seeing you around here before in The Whips and Spurs, not here in the bar or back in the private club…Visiting, passing through, or maybe thinking of moving to Satisfaction permanently?”
Nicola smiled, her eyes crinkling with genuine good humor. “Actually, I’m here on business. I was told that you were the man to see, Micah.”
“Really?”
“Yes, is there somewhere private we can go? Maybe you have an office in the back where we can talk?”
He felt a surge of triumph flow through him. She was probably just a travelling salesperson looking to sell him something he didn’t need, but he didn’t care. He was going to be alone with her. He grinned at Dace in victory. “Of course. Sorry, buddy. Will you excuse us?”
Nicola pushed her chair back and stood. Micah saw Dace’s dejected expression and had a childish urge to stick out his tongue, but he suppressed it in front of Nicola. She’d find out about their little quirks soon enough if she stuck around.
* * * *
Nicola looked at the two men and wanted to smile. They were both smoking hot in their own way. The sheriff, with his short, dark hair, black eyes, and tanned skin, was average height and looked on the slender side, but she was willing to bet he was nicely muscled under his uniform. She thought she could detect the edge of a tattoo at the neck of his shirt, which was buttoned all the way up to the top, and when she’d patted his back, she’d felt the corded muscle under his uniform.
Micah wa
s taller, with precisely cut, sandy, almost blond hair, blue eyes, and cheekbones to die for. She wondered if he did any modeling when he was younger. He looked preppy enough for a Calvin Klein ad until you noticed the tattoos showing at both the neck of his plain white T and all the way down his left arm in a full sleeve. She’d love to strip the T-shirt off him, explore just how much skin the ink covered, and learn the stories behind them.
She also noticed the way they were both looking at her like she was a juicy bone and they were two dogs set to scrap over her. Or maybe share her. There was something about the way they behaved. There was competitiveness, but there was cooperation, too, she sensed. She smiled broadly. This assignment was going to be fun.
“If it’s okay with you, Micah, I’m fine with the sheriff coming with us. After all, I might just be a dangerous woman and you’ll need the protection.”
“Oh, I have no doubt of that, but I am willing to take a risk. Besides, I have all the protection we’ll need back in the office.” He sighed. “But if you really want him to join us, sure. You want to join us, Dace? I know how busy you are. Feel free to take a pass.”
Nicola smothered a grin at the reluctance in his tone. Clearly he was hoping against hope that Dace would say no. Naturally, the sheriff jumped to his feet with a big grin, picking up her helmet.
“I would never say no to a lady.”
“Oh, Sheriff. If you knew me better, you’d know I’m definitely no lady. What fun would that be?”
“Better and better.”
Micah grumbled good-naturedly as Dace took her arm and threaded it through the crook of his own arm like an old-fashioned gentleman, leaving Micah to follow behind as they moved to the back of the bar. There were three doors along the back wall. One was for the men’s room and another for the ladies’ room. The third door was marked private. Micah pulled it open and held the door, gesturing for Nicola and Dace to precede him. She noticed that there were two more doors. Dace guided her toward the one marked Office. The other one was unmarked but protected by a scanner, the type that used magnetic cards, which she presumed was the entrance to the BDSM club she’d heard about.
Dace held the door and Nick entered, followed by Dace and Micah. This new hallway opened into an employee lounge on one side and a good-sized office on the other. It was quite plain, with a simple desk and inexpensive chairs. It was clear that most of the funding had gone into the series of monitors on the wall and the state-of-the-art computer on the console behind the desk. At the back of the office was a couch and a couple of file cabinets. The remaining wall was lined with shelving that held various books and boxes.
She walked into the office and took one of the seats in front of the desk. Dace took the chair beside her, placing her helmet on a file cabinet out of the way. Micah closed the office door and then took a seat behind the desk.
* * * *
Nicola looked from Micah to Dace. They smiled, but now that they were all seated in Micah’s office, she knew they had realized that they weren’t sure how to proceed and were waiting for her to take the lead. She smiled and waited, letting the silence grow. Finally, she turned in her chair so she could see them both. Micah got three bottles of water from a small fridge, placed one in front of each of them, and was taking a long swallow from his. Dace was leaning back in his chair, oh so casually, and balancing it on the back legs as he took a swallow too. Nick picked up her bottle, twisted the cap off, and dropped her bombshell before taking a long swallow.
“Allow me to introduce myself again. Nicola Marlow, also known as Nick. Quin said you’d be expecting me.”
Chapter Three
“You’re Nick Marlow?” Dace’s voice was neutral and his expression impossible to read, but she could almost see that his mind was going a mile a minute as he readjusted his expectations. “You aren’t quite what I was expecting,” was all he said, though.
“In a good way, I hope. I’m guessing that you were expecting a man. I’m going to kick Quin’s ass next time I see him.”
“Oh, he didn’t say you were a man. He just, looking back on the conversation, didn’t use pronouns when he talked about you,” advised Micah, his tone turned to almost purring. “But I’m very happy you aren’t a man, very, very happy.” He grinned in a manner that had her insides curling with lust. “I’d love to have you work under me on this investigation, Nicola.”
Nick burst into laughter. His tone and expression made it impossible to take offence. She realized that she liked Micah, a lot, even though they’d just met. She sobered quickly though. She was here to do a job, not flirt with hot guys. Although her original plan did include lots of hot, no-strings sex. She looked at Micah assessingly. He was obviously a Dom. Could she sleep with her client? Were there rules against it? She looked over at the sheriff. Or maybe he was her client? Did that mean they were both off-limits? Or, since she was here on her own time, were they both fair game?
“I’m sorry if Quin wasn’t clear. I’m sure it was just an oversight. Or I will kick his ass. It’s just, I’ve always been known as Nick. Everyone knows I’m female.” She sat back and took a deep breath, enjoying the slightly glazed looks in both men’s eyes as they tried valiantly not to stare at her breasts. She was going to enjoy this case. She smiled. “I hope you are okay with it. My being female, I mean.”
“Yes, you are, and yes, we are,” agreed Micah. She watched as Dace’s head swiveled toward his friend and he tried to freeze him with a glare. Dace just stuck his tongue out in response, and it had the feel of something that they’d done a thousand times as Micah rolled his eyes, turned back to Nick, and sighed.
“You’d think that now that’s he’s a sheriff he’d have more dignity.” He gave another exaggerated sigh and then continued.
“From an investigative point of view, I don’t care if you are male, female, or hermaphrodite. But it does throw a monkey wrench into the cover we’d discussed. But first things first. If you are interested in helping us, that is. Quin said you needed some more information before you committed to anything, and the need is mutual. The bar and club are my life. If I’m going to trust you to help with this, then you have to understand what this all means to me. Tell us about yourself and your experience, Nicola.”
“Fair enough. I’ll tell you a little about myself, and then you can tell me about the situation in your own words.” As she spoke, she dropped the flirtatious tone and became all business.
“The name is Nicola Marlow. I have an MBA and a law degree from Northwest. I started out with the FBI, but found them to not be a good fit. Let’s just say I wasn’t good at following orders. Then I was recruited by Southport Security and Protection where Quin used to work. We’ve worked together at SSP several times and were friends. I was sorry to hear he’d left the company.” She turned to look at Micah, who was leaning back in his office chair, his gaze going back and forth like a spectator at a tennis match. “Apparently, he’s given it all up for love.”
“With my sister, Jules,” he confirmed.
“And another man…”
“Blake Adams, town vet and all-around good guy.”
“I’ve actually met Doc before. And this doesn’t seem strange to you?”
“I don’t judge. Besides, if you spend any time in Satisfaction, you’ll see that ménage situations aren’t all that unusual here. If that’s too weird for you, then maybe you aren’t the right person for this. You are going to have to accept them in the bar and the club.” Micah’s tone was regretful but firm. She liked that. He had convictions.
“You are right. I do find it weird, but I’m not judging. Hell, there’s nothing like reading a good ménage romance book in the tub to relax, but I’d never before considered that there were people who lived that way as a part of a long-term relationship, rather than just a fun roll in the hay.
“That being said, if it makes someone happy, who cares what consenting adults get up to in the bedroom? Besides, it seems like it’s usually two men and one woman, from what I have re
ad. How can that not be a good idea?” And wasn’t that the truth, she thought. She sometimes dreamed about what it would be like to have two men devoting themselves to her sexual pleasure. Hell, it had been too long since she’d had one man do that. She looked from Micah to Dace and back again. Now wouldn’t it just be a fine thing to live out her fantasy with Micah and Dace in bed? Maybe not a relationship, because she couldn’t honestly see how that would work, even if Quin and Doc were trying to make it work. But a roll in the hay, a fling? Yes, that would be very fine indeed.
She swallowed hard and forced her thoughts back to business. She wasn’t here to get laid, although she would be quite happy if that happened. She looked at the men assessingly. The troubles were possibly connected to a BDSM club. Maybe it was her duty to have that fling, in order to do her job to the best of her abilities, of course. She’d love to blow off steam with either of them. The idea of both of them at the same time was causing a sensation not unlike letting a dozen butterflies lose inside her stomach.
“Yes, it is a bit unusual, but it just isn’t ménage that’s popular around here. Did Quin mention that Whips and Spurs is also the name of the private club at the back part of this building?”
She merely nodded, not trusting her voice. She’d fanaticized and even dreamed of two men doing to her the things she’d only read about. And she knew that the next time she had those dreams, the men would no longer be faceless. They’d be Micah and Dace.
“It is a private BDSM club and might be the focus of some of the incidents that have us concerned. But before we start talking about that, let’s get back to you. How long have you worked for SSP?”
“Five years. Obviously I can’t talk about my assignments, but I know that Quin has vouched for me. I’m good at what I do. I’m a black belt in two martial arts and rated expert in small weapons, I can handle pretty much any handheld weapons, from a handgun to a rocket launcher. I’m experienced in undercover work and am just coming off an assignment where I spent almost a year in deep cover. Now that I’m back and have finally finished all the paperwork, my boss is insisting that I need some time off to decompress. I’m on forced leave for a minimum of four more weeks. Then they will decide if I’m ready to come back, either to a desk job or back in the field.”
