by Stacey Lynn
I didn’t relish acting like a jerk. It didn’t come natural to me and yet, I’d been a complete jerk to Elizabeth and even when I tried to stop myself, it still happened.
What voodoo magic had she bewitched me with to make me so damn twisted up over her? We’d had two sessions together. It wasn’t the sex.
Although…it was damn good sex. But it wasn’t that.
It was her going to Brandon for no damn reason other than to say hi. It was the way she talked about her brothers. It was how she asked about mine.
It was how she could defend herself, and it was her comebacks and her obedience.
It was her gasps and her teasing.
It was her confidence she’d bare herself to a man she couldn’t see and even that wouldn’t prevent her from being free to let go of control.
She was perfect for me, and every time I turned around, I was doing the exact same thing Beaux had accused me of. I was falling for a woman and for whatever reason—because even I knew all my excuses were lame—I was too damn scared to reach for her.
I stalked into the locker room and tossed my helmet to the bottom of my locker. I was undressed quickly, tugging and snapping off buckles, yanking off my shoulder pads and shoving down my pants. I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my waist, headed toward the showers.
I’d get cleaned up.
I’d figure my shit out, and then I’d figure out what to do with little Miss Hayes who had slithered into my brain and refused to leave.
“Good practice today,” Powell said to me, passing me back from the showers.
I slammed my fist into his. “You too, old man.”
He turned and lifted his arms in the air. He wore nothing but a towel and the well-known cocky Powell smirk. “You only wish you could look this good when you’re as old as I am.”
“Damn straight.” I flung the towel I had wrapped around my neck and flipped it at him, smacking him right in his six-pack I knew women all over fawned over.
Seriously. More than one woman came up and asked for my autograph, only to then asked if Powell was as sexy in person as he was on television. Like I’d know how to answer that.
He gripped his stomach and pointed a finger in my direction. “Watch it. I’m still young enough to kick your ass.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
I shoved the towel back to my shoulder and hit the showers.
Today’s practice had been good, despite the reporters and the questions I had to answer afterward. I was focused. I didn’t drop a pass. My time jumping off the line was on point. And I was able to do all of that knowing Elizabeth was in the stands watching.
Perhaps I performed better because she was there.
I quickly pushed her out of my mind and focused on running plays in my mind. A hard-on in the men’s communal shower wasn’t exactly on my planned list of activities.
Ignoring the players who were celebrating our win, I washed up as fast as possible and headed back to the locker room. In less than thirty minutes, I was dressed, duffel bag slung over one shoulder.
I still had no idea what to do about Elizabeth, no idea how to fix what I knew I’d screwed up.
But it sure as hell wouldn’t stop me from trying.
And if she ever put her hands on Connor again, despite him being her ex, she’d know exactly what I thought about women who were mine touching another man.
“Tristan?”
“Are you through with her?”
My grip on my steel water bottle went hard. It was after nine. I was kicking back, watching a sweet as hell Navy Seal television show. At Tristan’s question, my feet slammed to the floor and I was hurrying to my room. I didn’t need to clarify who or what he meant. The instant thumping in my chest at the only reason he would call told me everything.
“Did she take a room?”
His French voice grated on my impatient nerves. “I ask the questions and you didn’t answer mine.”
Shit. Was I done with her?
No way in hell. Not by a long shot. “No.”
“Then you should get here.”
She was there. That’s what she agreed to with Connor earlier?
When I got her back into a private room, I’d plaster her backside with red stripes.
After talking to her in reasonably, controlled tones.
“Private room?” I repeated.
“No. She’s still in the anteroom waiting to enter.”
Small favors. But the fact she was there, talking to security and signing in didn’t settle anything inside.
“Would you like me to—”
“Keep her busy. I’ll be there in thirty but do not let her get to a room. But prepare one for me.”
“Je te comprends.”
I hoped that meant yes. Why he insisted on speaking French when I had no clue what it meant was beyond me. He hung up and I tossed my phone to my bed. Stepping into the closet, I didn’t grab the black I usually wore to The Velvet Club. Thankfully, getting your kicks in a sex and voyeur club meant pretty much anything went. Some people wore masks to disguise their own identity. Some wore barely anything at all. The women who walked around in lingerie never grabbed my attention previously and so help me God. If that was what Elizabeth chose to wore when she roamed the gathering room searching for prey, or intent on being taken…
I refused to finish the thought.
I gripped a gray shirt and yanked it off the hanger. Dark blue jeans came next. I shucked off my sweats, tugged my clothes on, and grabbed a black mask that covered half my face on the way out of the door.
Thirty minutes later, I stalked into Velvet and took a spot along a back wall where the crowds socializing were thicker and the lights darker.
It didn’t matter where I stood, though. I found her immediately. All that glimmering blonde hair, spun like gold, curled and falling down her back. It helped Tristan was talking to her at the bar. Her back was to me, I had no idea if she wore a mask or if within these walls, she didn’t care who saw her.
I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against the wall. I lifted a booted foot and bent my leg, pressing the bottom to the wall for extra support.
And then I waited. The blood rushing through my veins didn’t cool.
I needed to chill.
Then, I had to figure out once and for all, what would I do with the sexy little reporter, and how wicked would she let me be?
And then after? Who in the fuck knew, but I already knew we couldn’t continue like this.
Later. I’d figure that out later.
My mission then was to ensure she wouldn’t go fuck another man.
Seventeen
Elizabeth
I almost didn’t come. It was a mistake when I slid into a black tank top and short, super short but flirty black and white striped skirt.
It was a mistake when I signed in and took the wristband…pink indicating a taken sub. I didn’t need more men complicating my already headache-inducing life filled with more men and lies and secrets than I could already handle.
Yeah, I definitely shouldn’t have come. I might have been ready to venture into the private room with well-vetted interested men like John, but the gathering room had never been my thing.
I didn’t make a lot of friends when I came here before and I tended to keep myself tucked into a corner at the bar. Not to drink, thanks to the standard one alcoholic drink limit. Lucky me, the club soda with lime flowed copiously.
Not exactly what I wanted so I was prepared to face Connor, so I was taking my time enjoying a glass of white wine, taking in the room.
The Velvet club was a classy place. It wasn’t a trashy sex club with oiled up stripper poles. There weren’t any public shows on a stage unless it was a private night for demonstrations. Those you had to register for separately and were put on before the club opened at night. They were for anyone interested in learning more, practicing techniques or learning new ones. Tristan always took the safety of his club seriously so he put as much time into tr
aining and practicum nights as he did into the decor.
Which he nailed. Rich, dark purple lined velvet chairs and booths surrounded silver tabletops. The floors were a light gray and sparkling chandeliers with thousands of tiny, miniscule lights hung from them throughout the room. It was decadent and sensual. And none of it screamed, “take me to your sex dungeon and flog me.”
Thankfully. The first time I stepped into Velvet for a tour, I was freaked enough. Had it been all black and red screaming, “kinky sex happens here,” I might have fled. As it was, the softness of the grays and lights along with the lure of the dark velvets and purples soothed my nerves upon entrance.
Tonight, it was that first night all over again, without the soothing presence.
That was until Tristan slid up next to me. He didn’t sit and his eyes glanced at me quickly before continuing to survey the rather quiet gathering. For a Thursday, it was pretty slow. It was also on the early side.
“Hello, chérie. This is unexpected.” His hands clasped together on the bar. “All is well?”
Everything was a tangled mess of knotted extension chords inside of me.
“Oui,” I responded. It was one of the few French words I knew. “I’m just here to observe tonight.”
“Bien sur. Of course.” Tristan’s gaze roamed the room and looked over my shoulder. As it did, his expression darkened. “Be careful this evening, s’il te plait?”
I stared at him dumbfounded. The French and his expression confused me.
“I’ll be good,” I promised, unsure it was the correct response. At his nod, he touched my shoulder. “Take care, chérie. Enjoy your evening.”
A voice from the man I wasn’t looking forward to seeing spoke behind me. “I wasn’t sure you’d come, but I’m glad to see you.”
Turning slowly, I took the quick moment to gather my nerves and school my expression. “I didn’t come for you, Connor.”
His head tilted in that cocky way of his. “Oh? Then why did you?”
“I came to clear the air. I’m seeing someone else.” It was a partial lie. I had no idea what Gage and I were to each other. “And even if we weren’t, I’m here tonight because the other times you’ve approached me we’ve been at work.”
“I know. And that was foolish. I apologize, but—“
“No buts.” I shook my head. “I loved you.” At the confession, Connor jerked back. “I loved you and I wasn’t afraid to admit it. Your job was to take care of me, always. And you neglected to do the one thing you’re supposed to. Leaving me on that cross while you high-tailed it out of that room was humiliating.”
“I know I didn’t handle it well. It, well it shocked me.”
“You treated me like crap and for that reason alone, I’d never have anything to do with you again. But I’ve also learned a lot about myself in the last six months and honestly, it’s that what we had wasn’t love. I confused it with love, but now that I’ve been with someone else, I see it clearly. I don’t want you. For a night. Or for anything. So I’m asking you to drop this so we can still maintain a working relationship when we have to see each other.”
I stepped away from him so he couldn’t reach for me. My gaze scanned the area. Was Tristan still close? I didn’t see him, and I looked for one of the security men walking around. They were noticeable by their headsets, but I didn’t see any of them either.
“Connor, I’m sorry.” I wasn’t. I was still looking for someone to help if needed. Instead, I landed on someone else.
No. I’d recognize him anywhere, even if he had a strip of black across his eyes and over his nose. His haircut, something I’d studied along with this build made him unmistakable.
That and the fact he was gliding directly toward me, lips pressed together with vivid intent.
Oh shit.
I turned to Connor. “I wish you well. But I’m not the one for you, and even if I were, I truly don’t appreciate how you’ve handled any of this. I was at a minimum, owed respect for our previous relationship and not only are you not listening to me, you’re trying to manipulate me into giving you what you want. None of it’s with thought of me, or what’s best for me in your mind. Take care.”
I didn’t mean that either, but the angry growly mountain of a man was looming closer and I was intent on escaping.
Not that I actually believed I could run from him. His long stride could eat up my shorter one in a millisecond.
I didn’t look back at Connor, but I darted into the crowd. I weaved back and forth until I came to why I had really shown up at Velvet that night.
To watch. It’d always fascinated me. People who had the confidence to fully immerse themselves in such a private experience and either not be bothered by potentially hundreds of strangers watching them, or get off because of hundreds of strangers watching them impressed me.
I was comfortable with sex. I liked it in a wide variety of ways. But still, even if it was with a man I didn’t know, I still demanded that privacy for such intimacy. But what would it be like?
I stopped in front of the lit up room. The room was on the other side of the gathering than where I knew the one I always used was, but it was so similar, almost exactly the same except this one still had the St. Andrew’s Cross in the corner and not the potted plant.
But it wasn’t the cross that grabbed my attention and pulled me closer. It was the woman strapped to it.
Chocolate brown hair gleamed from soft overhead lighting. It was braided, draped over one of her shoulders. Her arms were lifted high and wide, secured to the top by wrist cuffs and her feet were the same at the bottom with her ankles.
She was fixed to the cross with her back facing it, full frontal view of her body displayed and completely naked.
The man with her, from the back, reminded me so much of Gage. Large, wide shoulders. Muscles galore all over his back and shoulders. Veins popped down his arms. He held nothing in his hands, but his arms were crossed. Furrowed brows showed focused attention on the woman in front of him as he spoke to her.
Her eyes lit with joy as he spoke. Green orbs sparkled as she answered. He moved toward her and gently settled his hand at the side of her throat. She leaned in close and spoke to him.
His response was a smile that shone. This couple weren’t strangers. They weren’t even play partners. They were in love and the depth of that love sent an ache to my gut.
I felt Gage come up behind me. How it was him, I didn’t know except I expected him. And I seemed to have a Gage Bryant beacon attached to my libido. He came for a purpose and based on the way he’d move toward me, the way he scowled at Connor and me earlier, I had no doubt he was here to stop me from doing something stupid.
Silly man. He didn’t know me at all. The only thing I planned on doing tonight was him. I wasn’t raised to toss away a gift, and I certainly wasn’t about to start.
He pressed his chest to my back and slid his arm to my stomach. My hand went to his immediately and curled not only around the heat of his hand but cool satin.
Disappointing. We were back to that.
I gripped both his hand and the blindfold meant for me and continued watching the couple. The man was worshipping this woman. Strong hands with long fingers brushed over her collarbone and the curve of her breast before switching to the other. She had her eyes glued to her man, lips parted in pleasure and he was barely touching her.
I want that.
“You like to watch?” the man behind me asked.
He was bent low over me, mouth near my eye. The question sent shivers down my arms straight to my fingertips on his skin. I gripped him tighter. “Sometimes. You were a jerk.”
The list of the ways he’d been a jerk was quite long.
His lips pressed my throat. My shoulder not obscured from the wide straps of my tank top. “I shouldn’t have left you so rudely last time. I apologize.”
Oh. We were back to that. It occurred to me then.
He didn’t know I knew who he was. Or if he suspected,
he wasn’t ready to reveal himself. Again, disappointment flared, but curiosity of where this was going spurred me on.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight.”
“What were you expecting?” His other hand went to my hip. He held me firmly against him. His erection obvious at my lower back. “Did you come to play?”
The grit in his voice was thick. I fought against a smile. He didn’t like that idea.
Good.
“I came to talk to someone. And to watch.”
“Have you ever been watched?”
“No.”
“Would you like to?”
“I don’t know. Maybe, if it was like them.”
His head turned, chin rested on my shoulder. I closed my eyes and imagined we were that couple. It was impossible. He wouldn’t even let me see his face, and I doubted he’d give me his heart. Too bad he didn’t know I was holding mine in my palm. His for the taking.
“Like what? You want to be on the cross?” His voice was teasing and I felt my lips stretch into a smile.
“No. Their connection. It’s beautiful.”
“Hmmm.”
The desire to turn around, press my hands to his cheeks and inspect as much of him I could see pulsed like an itch beneath my skin. I kept my gaze on the man and the woman. He was still caressing her. Along her sides, her breasts. Every time her eyes closed and a gentle smile tugged at her lips, he pinched her nipples. She arched off the cross, seeking him, to which he’d kiss her. Not her lips. Her throat. Her shoulder. He bathed her body in his kisses everywhere except where it was obvious she desperately craved them.
Evil man. Much like the one holding me. His breath skittered across my skin in soft gentle waves. The rhythm of his heartbeat at my back was a lullaby, drawing me in.
I relaxed into him, and he held me tighter. And when the man in the room slid his hands down to his wife’s core, pressed two fingers in and yanked her to him, behind me, Gage groaned.
“Will you play with me tonight?”
It was a question, not a command, the first he’d given me as if he knew this night was our last chance for anonymity.
