by Tina Donahue
The gown fit like a second skin, the silky fabric downright decadent. The stilettos added four inches to her height. Luckily, each band member was well over six feet and would soon arrive.
Jacquie’s palms got damp. “Is the room whirling for you too?”
“Nope. Don’t worry, you’ll do better than fine.” She tossed the robe in the bathroom then clasped Jacquie’s wrist. “Time to see how you look.”
“Can I have a cigarette and blindfold first?”
Laughing, Bree tugged her to the cheval mirror.
The world stopped. The woman staring back at her was nowhere close to the Jacquie Reynolds she once knew. Her hair, cut Cleopatra style, shone like nobody’s business, the color darker than she recalled. Smoky makeup ringed her eyes, lightening her gray irises. Scarlet lipstick made her mouth look wet, pouty and positively kissable. Blusher added faint color to her cheeks, hinting at the inner heat within. “Wow.”
Bree gripped her shoulders and shook her gently. “Amazing, huh?”
She nodded. “Dang, I look good.”
“Hell yeah.” She turned Jacquie to face her. “By the way, you might want to talk dirty tonight. Turns guys on during sex. No gosh, darn, dang, or other stuff that says good girl.”
Which would be a total turnoff. “Fucking A.”
They laughed.
Bree’s office phone rang. She picked up. “Yeah.” After listening a moment, she nodded. “You know what to do.” She lowered the receiver. “Your guys arrived. They’re on the way here.”
Jacquie grabbed Bree’s arm. “Don’t leave.”
“I wasn’t planning to. Chill. You’re bright, talented, exquisite, and most importantly, horny as hell. Right?”
Her pussy couldn’t get any wetter, her nipples any harder. “Uh-huh.”
“Be yourself. Any man would be insane not to want you as you are.”
Too bad Bree hadn’t been her mom. Jacquie figured she’d have tons more confidence than she did. Thankfully, her longing for tonight and the guys crowded out any reservations she might have had.
Heavy footfalls sounded outside the room. Males approaching. The moment identical to Bree’s guys arriving that first night to collect on her promise.
Please let my evening turn out as good.
Hard raps sounded on the door.
Jacquie flinched.
Bree shot her a frown and grabbed papers from her desk. “Pretend you’re looking at this with me.”
She kept her voice as low as Bree had kept hers. “Why?”
“So you don’t appear intimidated but ready for anything.”
If that were the case, she should be panting, and was. “Oh my god, we forgot the mirror. It’s still in here. What if they see it?”
“With this other stuff for them to look at?” She swung her arm in a wide arc taking in the Victorian artwork, all smut, and photos depicting nude women enjoying themselves.
“You have a point.”
More raps.
Bree lifted her face. “Come in.”
The crystal knob turned bit-by-bit, excruciatingly slow, yet also too fast.
“Easy.” Bree bumped Jacquie’s arm.
She managed to pull in a puny breath.
The door swung inward.
My freaking god. This is actually happening.
Max entered first, pure alpha, his features rough, grin mischievous, his freshly washed hair dancing over his shoulders, his stubble tempting as fuck. Tonight, he wore a dark blue suit, a sapphire shirt, and matching tie. Hip as hell. At twenty-nine, he was male to the extreme.
Bree rattled the papers to catch Jacquie’s attention for the performance she suggested.
No good. Jacquie couldn’t look anywhere except at him. To keep from throwing herself into his arms and ruining her badass-chick act, she dug her nails into her palms.
His gaze zipped down her, crawled back up, settled on her cleavage for a long, long while then inched up to her mouth, where he also lingered, then met her eyes.
Male interest sparked in his, his grin widening, the bulge between his legs thickening.
Warmth poured through her, followed by certainty she’d rarely known. Bolstered, she returned his smile. Not as a fan, but as a woman needing a man’s firm touch, followed by his regard, respect, and tenderness.
Something crossed his face.
Pleasure? Passion? Both? Neither? She couldn’t read the emotion. Crap.
Tempering his earlier joy, he stepped deeper inside, homing in on her, Bree forgotten, no one else existing for him.
Worked for her.
Andy entered the office, his auburn hair striking, his baby blues soulful yet also eager. The perfect combination in any man and ideal for a lyricist who wrote songs that made her wet and brought her to tears. She liked his burgundy suit, gold tie and shirt, the colors outstanding on him. Unable to wait any longer for his smile, she grinned hard enough to make her cheeks hurt.
His preppy features lit up. He blushed then beamed, more beta than alpha.
Fine with her. He was a year younger than Max and Devlin, his response to her the greatest gift she’d known.
Devlin elbowed past both men, his dark blond hair swinging, his leather suit outrageous and totally him. Like Max, he was alpha to the core, at least during their performances and in entertainment articles she’d read. His tuxedo shirt and bowtie tamed him—somewhat. His beard-shadowed cheeks, upper lip, and chin showed what a bad boy he was. He winked.
Her smile approved of it and everything he was.
Bree cleared her throat and tossed the papers on the desk. “We’ll go over those details tomorrow. For now… Gentlemen, welcome. Max, Andy, Devlin, this is Jacquie Reynolds, my assistant. Jacquie, Dominant Men.”
They stepped forward as one, delivering their heat.
Max offered his hand first.
She slipped hers inside his and almost died. His palm was calloused and hot, one thousand percent masculine, his touch firm yet tempered in strength. At six-three, he looked down at her, the stilettos not making a dent in their differing heights.
“Nice to meet you, Jacquie.”
His smooth, deep voice caressed her name. She’d never forget the sound. “The pleasure is mine.”
No lie, given how she melted inside. However, her tone remained even, not betraying her arousal or anxiety.
He offered another killer smile and leaned closer, his brown eyes so dark they looked black.
His scent washed over her, something fresh and aquatic, similar to the sea. Fitting for a man who resembled a pirate. Wild. Unrestrained. Commanding. He was definitely starring in her first romance. She shook inwardly.
Devlin offered his hand next, crowding out Andy who either didn’t mind being one-upped or wouldn’t show it.
Not liking Devlin’s behavior, she gave him a cool look.
He smiled sheepishly and bobbed his hand up and down, reminding her what to do next. “It’s great to meet you, Jacquie. I hear you have no equal in your work. I don’t doubt it for a second.”
At his praise and silky baritone, her disapproval crumbled faster than a sandcastle during a hurricane. His solid grasp said he wouldn’t let go anytime soon. Exactly what she needed from him in bed. “I do my best. I’m delighted to meet you, too.”
He stroked her thumb.
Pleasure blossomed within her pussy. She reeled.
“I’d say we’ve waited far too long to meet.” He brushed his lips over her knuckles, his stubble rough, mouth ungodly soft.
Another second of him being his devilish self and she’d beg him to do her then ask the others for the same. His sensual, bold fragrance enthralled, a spicy-musky scent bringing to mind torrid summer nights, satin sheets, and naked flesh.
Before she lost what scant control she had, she eased her hand from his, ready to meet Andy.
He regarded her boobs, plumped by the dress, then met her gaze, with naked craving in his eyes.
His brief intensity surprised her, his grip as
impressive as the others, but also friendly and caring. His scent proved minty, pleasant and masculine.
It should have calmed her. Instead, her desire shot into the stratosphere. “Hey.”
His grin stretched ear to ear. “Hi. Great to meet you, Jacquie. Thanks for showing us around tonight. I’m sure you have other work you could be doing.”
Loving his rich voice, she shook her head hard enough to make the earrings tap her jaw. “Not in the least. That stuff can wait until tomorrow.” She looked at Bree. “Right?”
Bree struggled not to smile. “It’ll be waiting for you at your desk when you come in. Until then…” She regarded the guys. “Have fun. Enjoy Surrender. Let your imaginations run wild.” After giving Jacquie a knowing look, she ushered them from her office.
The door clicked shut.
Jacquie’s pulse jumped. On her own with them, she struggled for composure and said the only thing she could. “Let’s discuss your ideas for the album while we have a drink at the bar.” At this point, booze couldn’t hurt. Her passion was one thing, her doubt about whether they’d want her intimately another.
You could take the girl out of Utah and put her into a righteous dress and makeup, but you couldn’t erase every cruel comment she’d heard from guys. Like she was too tall, not busty enough, the stud she wore in her nose was weird, and she was paler than a vampire. Yada, yada, yada. Given those lousy appraisals, there hadn’t been many men in her life. She’d only dated two, neither relationship lasting more than a year.
Eight months had passed since she’d last had sex.
Her needy cunt kicked into high gear, wanting a cock to fill, use and pleasure it. Definitely showtime.
Giving the guys her best smile, she strove for a sexy tone. “Follow me.”
Their footfalls slapped the hardwood floor behind her.
Ahead, the hall opened up into the get-acquainted area, decorated to resemble a Victorian palace. Numerous chandeliers rained muted light on period furniture upholstered in lilac or rose velvet. Dark cherry wood paneled the walls, each polished to a high sheen. A French instrumental played, the music soft and sensuous. Nothing like what transpired on the upper floors where BDSM, fetishes, voyeurism, gang bangs, threesomes and ménages ruled.
Jacquie’s stomach fluttered, anticipation rising, but she kept a steady pace, not racing across the area nor lingering too long.
As Bree predicted, the patrons paid scant attention to Max, Devlin and Andy. Those men who did, raised their drinks. She supposed in a salute to the band’s music. The women offered welcoming smiles, long on good manners, short on carnal need.
The staff kept glimpsing at the guys, though not for long. To the woman—and man—they focused on the patrons they served drinks to.
Of course, that didn’t tell her what the guys were doing or where they looked.
She glanced over her shoulder at them.
They studied her various parts, met her eyes and smiled.
Happy, she picked up speed.
Someone grabbed her wrist.
Max. He stroked her hand and smiled. “Where’s the noise coming from?”
Whistles, applause, and male shouts sounded close by. The slave auction had begun. She bet it wasn’t as great as her dream about them this morning. “The ballroom.”
He nodded then lifted his eyebrows. “And…?”
She explained how male patrons bid on a female patron to become their slave, and to do everything they wanted, no matter how kinky. Those were the rules.
Max traded a look with the other guys. “Why didn’t we see that the last time we were here?”
She spoke before anyone could. “You arrived too late.”
His eyebrows inched up again. His face questioning how she’d know.
She’d been a bad girl during their visit, haunting their moves on the security monitors. To her delight and amazement, they hadn’t hooked up with anyone. They simply had a few drinks, dinner, and looked around then left, leaving her wanting and restless. Time to lie. She truly had fallen far from her family tree. “When VIPs arrive, I get an alert in case they require anything special.”
The guys took in the others, all Very Important People and millionaires, some even billionaires.
Perspiration broke out on Jacquie’s neck despite the mild temperature. Committed to a farce she started, she said the only thing she could. “When you visited, you didn’t have any requests I needed to address, so we didn’t meet.”
Max nodded.
Devlin rocked on his heels.
Andy regarded her, his mood sympathetic. The way a guy looks when he senses a woman is in distress.
She needed to work on her poker face. Too bad Bree hadn’t thought of that during the preparations for this evening. “Shall we?”
Jacquie led them to the spacious bar decorated in black granite and gold, a man cave where sexual negotiations took place over drinks and smooth jazz played low. The hostess zipped to them. She wore a snug tuxedo, the jacket cut low on top to flaunt her assets. “Good evening, Ms. Reynolds, gentlemen. Your table is ready.”
Bree had made good on her promise to secure whatever Jacquie had asked for this evening.
Besides an open communal area where couples and groups sat at tables, there were secluded locations separated from the rest by what looked like beaded curtains. In actuality, they were plastic cords with lights inside. Those golden globes blinked off and on to simulate streaming water. The subdued glow allowed enough light for patrons to see but was romantic rather than invasive.
Inside, a circular seat upholstered in gold velvet circled a round table. The overhead chandelier held numerous black candles, each electric, but breathtakingly real in appearance. Flames danced, adding to the titillating atmosphere.
Once she sat, the guys piled in on the other side, facing her.
Devlin’s foot grazed her stiletto. He didn’t budge. Neither did she.
The same for when Max’s calf touched hers.
Andy didn’t participate. He kept regarding her, a question in his eyes she couldn’t fathom, since he didn’t look concerned for her any longer. She wanted to squeeze his hand, but didn’t have the nerve. Yet.
Their server entered, a pretty girl dressed in a tux, her wavy hair strawberry blonde. “Good evening, I’m Heather.” She recited the wine list. “If you’d prefer something harder, we have every mixed drink known to mankind. Beer too.” She named the brands.
Jacquie ordered white wine. The guys chose designer brews. Not once did they leer at Heather’s outfit, spectacular form, or face. They were perfect gentlemen.
With any luck, they wouldn’t be for long when it came to her. As soon as Heather left, Jacquie got down to business. Sort of. “I’m dying to hear what you have in mind for your new album. By the way, your last one—wow.” She pressed her palm to her chest. It didn’t keep her heart from slamming into it. “Breathe Me In was beyond anything I’ve heard.” The single had gone multi-platinum. She smiled at Andy. “Your lyrics…” She turned to Devlin. “Your music…” She faced Max. “Your singing… My god, how do you guys do it? I cried, laughed, held my breath, every-freaking-thing.”
They looked uncharacteristically shy, their cheeks darkening.
Andy scooted up and folded his arms on the table. “You honestly like it? You’re not just saying you did?”
Stunned, she pushed back in her seat. “You think I’d actually lie about something important to you or anything else, even insignificant stuff?”
Devlin wiggled his eyebrows, unusually dark given his light hair. “You’d be surprised what people say to get on our good side.”
She leaned against the table. “You have a bad one?”
They laughed.
Max scratched his cheek. “Tell us why you liked it. What emotions it brought out.”
She should have been grateful to bond with them over their music, but didn’t want to leave herself too defenseless. If this worked out as she hoped, it’d only be about fun. They
’d enjoy each other—as she never had with any other men—and go their separate ways. No harm, no foul. “What do you mean?”
He tapped his thumb against the table, his manner unimpressed by her stall. Devlin crossed his arms, making his leather suit crinkle. She would have smiled at the sound if not for Andy’s probing look.
Crud. “The song reminded me of when I started a new middle school and didn’t know anyone. I got teased for being too tall. If I’d worn a stud in my nose then, as I do now, I’m sure my fashion choice would have come up for ridicule.”
Andy sniffed. “Screw those kids. I like the stud.”
Max and Devlin nodded.
Tension drained from her. “Thanks. It took months before I made friends. When I finally did, my BFF and I hung out everywhere, until the cool kids invited her into their crowd. I was history, just like that.” She snapped her fingers and slumped. “It was awful.”
Max’s mouth turned down. “I’ll bet. Our piece brought back those bad memories?”
“Sure. The lyrics reminded me what it’s like to lose someone, like the girl losing her man in the song and being alone.”
They exchanged glances.
She could guess why and cursed herself for having shared that particular history with them. “I’m not gay, all right? The lyrics didn’t remind me of the guys I’ve dated because I wasn’t that into any of them.”
Their smiles returned.
So did hers.
For some reason, no one spoke. Conversation didn’t seem necessary. Something indescribable and electric passed between them, filling her soul and tugging at her heart.
Heather breezed inside, breaking the magic. “Your wine and beers.” Once she’d placed them on the table, she held the tray to her side. “Would you like anything else? Appetizers, maybe?”
Everyone shook their heads.
“As you wish. I’ll be back in a bit to refresh your drinks.”
Jacquie hoped not. Rather than guzzling her wine, as she wanted, she sipped it. “Are you going to include BDSM in your next album like what we have here? Is that allowed?”
Devlin shrugged. “Within reason. We have to be artistic about it.”
“And not celebrate pain.” Andy tasted his beer. “I’m going for romantic lyrics. Bondage and punishment are only to ratchet up the emotion.”
