Sinfully Mine

by Kendall Ryan

  But as I look up into his hungry dark eyes, I know none of it is true. Apparently I’ve never really moved on at all, because when things in my life fell apart again, he’s the one I ran to.

  I knock back my drink in a single gulp, because heaven help me, I need some brass lady balls for what I’m about to do. It’s a new year and a fresh start for me, and I’m grabbing what I want and running with it. No regrets. Life’s too damn short.

  Showing up on New Year’s probably wasn’t my smartest move. Of course, my brother is out somewhere, probably drunk or worse after what that skank of an ex-fiancée did to him. So that left me with staying with either Nana or Reece. And considering I didn’t want to wake up an eighty-year-old woman, I typed Reece Jackson into Google and closed my eyes, praying for a search result and that he was home tonight.

  What I got instead shook me to my core. Apparently, twenty-seven-year-old Reece Jackson is the multimillionaire owner of Chicago’s hottest underground sex club. I never would have pegged him for a Dominant, but it makes sense. He’s always been intense and demanding. I just can’t believe Cameron never mentioned it all the times I asked about Reece.

  He’s even more devastatingly handsome than I recall. He’s tall, masculine, and extremely fit. His dark hair is cut short, with just enough to grab onto. He still has the features I remember, but now they seem more refined. Some things are definitely new, though. Dark tattoos hidden behind the sleeve of his shirt, circling his wrist, suggest a sleeve decorating his arm. I want to see more. He never had a single tattoo when I knew him. He’s the man I measured all others against, and the reason no one has ever measured up.

  Reece lifts his drink to his mouth and looks at me over the rim of the glass. I know he’s noticed me checking him out, but he doesn’t call me out. “You want to talk about the ex-douche?” he asks, his voice a harsh growl.

  “Tony?” I snort. “Not particularly.”

  “Humor me, Pancake. I need to understand this.”

  I let out a deep sigh. I haven’t heard that name in years. He’s called me Pancake since that one morning in my parents’ kitchen when, in my overexcitement of watching a sleep-rumpled Reece lumber down the stairs, I dropped the mixing bowl on the floor, sending gooey batter flying in every direction.

  Reece didn’t even falter. He walked straight up to me, wiped a smear of batter off my cheek, and brought it to his mouth. “Mmm. Banana?”

  I merely nodded, frozen in place. Banana chocolate chip pancakes were his favorite back then, and I made them every chance I got.

  He bent down to pick up the bowl and cleaned up while I started a new batch. We worked as a good team, even back then. And I’m wondering if we still do.

  “Macey? The ex?” Reece interrupts my little daydream. “Is there someone’s ass I need to fly down to Florida to kick?”

  Just thinking about Tony agitates me. Having to actually talk about him makes me boiling angry.

  Reece signals the bartender. “Another of those?” he asks, reading my mood.

  I give him a tight nod. “Might help.”

  The busty redheaded bartender wearing a leather corset gives Reece a flirty wink, then sets the drink down in front of me with an unceremonious thud. I don’t want to explore the flash of jealousy that surges through me.

  Reece is still watching me, still waiting for me to answer.

  I take a small sip, appreciating the bite of the liquor as it sinks all the way to my belly and warms me. “We dated for nine months. He was between jobs much of that time, and so he moved in with me about six months ago. Last week I came home from work early and caught him banging the living daylights out of our landlord, Pinky.”

  “Is Pinky a man or a woman?” he asks.

  “Does it matter?” I press my lips together.

  “Not really.” He shrugs. “I’m just trying to follow along.”

  “Pinky is a fifty-eight-year-old woman.” There’s nothing like a slap to the face or your self-confidence than finding your boyfriend balls deep inside a grandmother. Fuck my life.

  “Damn, Macey.” Reece shakes his head. “You’re beautiful and sexy, and deserve much more than that. I’d say you dodged a fucking bullet with that guy. He’s obviously a total fuckwit.”

  I smile, despite myself. Maybe it’s being in the presence of Reece, or maybe it’s the liquor, but I’m feeling better than I have in days.

  “Yeah. I’m just ready to move on.” And it’s the truth. I wasn’t in love with Tony, but we lived together and were in a committed, monogamous relationship, or at least I was. But that’s over now.

  “And your job?” he asks.

  “The station was downsizing. I saw the writing on the wall.” I shrug.

  “And so you’re here.”

  “I am.” I don’t know if he means here as in Crave, or here as in Chicago, but doubt creeps in. “I’m sorry I just showed up like this. My intention was to go to Cam’s for the night. Figure out my next move after that. But it’s New Year’s and I wasn’t thinking. Of course, he’s not home. I’m sure he’s out on the town.”

  “He’s upstairs, actually.”

  Shock slams into me. “He’s here?”

  “Uh . . .”

  I’ve never see Reece speechless before, but several minutes of awkward silence follow before he manages a response.

  “Shit. I shouldn’t have assumed you knew about his membership here.”

  “He’s a member?” I can’t even. My straitlaced attorney of a brother is into BDSM? What in the actual fuck?

  “Dammit.” Reece curses under his breath before signaling the big-breasted bartender for another. “Yeah. Sorry to burst your innocence bubble.”

  I take a deep, calming breath, realizing I’ve been staring at him with wide eyes and a look of shock frozen on my face. “Actually, that’s what I’m hoping you’ll help me with.”

  “What’s that?”

  With my pulse pounding and my hands trembling, I pull back my shoulders and look straight into his eyes. “Six years ago, you stopped things before we got to the main event.”

  He licks his lips. Lips that are full and demanding, yet soft. Lips that once did wicked things to my body. “It was the right thing to do.”

  Although I disagree, I don’t argue because I’m thinking over my strategy. I’m no quitter. I’ve lusted after Reece Jackson for at least a decade, and now I’m single and living in the same city as him again. After the hell Tony put me through, it’s time to have some fun. I didn’t expect to learn Reece owned a BDSM club, but if I’m honest, I have to admit it only makes me more curious. When in Rome . . .

  He’s always been that unobtainable older guy—my brother’s best friend—and now the knowledge that he knows his way around a toy box only has my body humming that much more. The memories of our years together haunt me; we still have unfinished business.

  I set out to prove to him that I would make something of myself after he cast me aside. But all roads led right back to where I started. Reece. I can’t help but remember the night I almost lost my virginity—or rather, my failed attempt at it.

  Him with a large bulge in his pants. Me with my panties pulled to the side while I fingered myself, trying to tempt him. The pained expression on his face as he watched.

  I ache just thinking about it. I felt rejected and ridiculous. Shit, I still do. All of it rushes back through me like it was just yesterday. It’s time to let go of the past and make some new memories.

  Glancing around the club, I take in its secretive, sexual allure, and the desire to be a bit reckless nudges at me. I meet Reece’s eyes as the familiar powerful chemistry crackles between us. “I’m here because I want to experience this.”

  “What exactly do you want to experience?” he asks, his eyes narrowing.

  “You tell me, you’re the Dom.” I fight off a sassy smile, trying not to taunt him. “I told you. I’ve just come out of a less-than-ideal situation, and all I want is sex—no, good sex—and a few orgasms to forget
my own damn name.”

  “And how does this involve me, Macey?”

  My heart sinks a little. I’ll admit, this is random. I get that. I haven’t seen or spoken to Reece in years. But he owns a sex club. Clearly there’s no better man for the job.

  “You own a sex club, for fuck’s sake. Are you really going to be a prude about this?”

  He stiffens and leans back a little. “Excuse me if I’m a little fucking thrown off, Pancake. I haven’t seen you in what, six years? And now you just expect me to whip out my flogger and spank you?”

  I chew on my lip. Now we’re talking. “Or your cock,” I suggest helpfully.

  “I need to talk to Hale.”

  My eyes widen, and I snort out a nervous laugh. “You’re going to discuss this with my brother? Are you insane?” He’s always called Cameron by our last name. Most of his close friends do, in fact. But discussing this with my brother is not a fucking good idea.

  He smirks, and damn if it isn’t sexy. “Probably a little, but we’re doing things different this time.”

  Why is it that any reference to our history sends a little stabbing pain through my chest? That needs to stop. “Different how?”

  “We’re playing by my rules.” His fist tightens at his side, making the veins stand out on his tattooed forearm.

  As I study him, taking in the stiffness to his shoulders and the hard set of his jaw, I realize this Reece is a different man from the one I remember. He’s forceful and edgier with a new intensity simmering just under the surface. It makes me want to peel back each and every layer, and discover all I’ve been missing.

  To be fair, I’ve changed a lot too. I’ve learned a lot these past few years while building a career and making a name for myself. Mostly, I learned that confidence is the key to getting what you want. I’d used the mantra fake it ’til you make it more than once at my job back in Miami. And now it seems I need to use it to land Reece too.

  This time around I’m going to be the one taking what I want. No cheating ex or crappy job is going to tell me good-bye. I’m going to take my pleasure and ride the wave of my naughtiest adventure all the way to Screaming Orgasmville. First stop: How to Become a Submissive 101.

  Reece interrupts my thoughts, softening his voice. “How about a tour of the club?” He tips his head toward the lounge. “If you’re still interested after you know what you’d be getting into, then we’ll talk.”

  Given that I’ve only seen the entrance and now the bar, of course I’m curious about this place I’ve found myself in. “Sure.”

  Taking one last swig of my drink, I leave the glass at the bar and follow his lead.

  His hand comes to rest against my lower back, just above my butt, sending tingles zipping up and down my spine. In my skinny jeans and simple cotton tunic, I’m way underdressed compared to the other women here. From another perspective, I may be overdressed given that most of the women are parading around in body-hugging cocktail dresses or skimpy lingerie, leaving little to the imagination. But having the undivided attention of the best-looking man in the place makes me feel like a goddess.

  Reece guides me away from the bar and toward a staircase. As we climb the stairs to the second floor, my belly dances with nerves. Maybe he’s right; maybe I won’t like what I see here and I’ll run away. Part of me thinks that’s exactly what he wants. I can’t let that happen.

  Upstairs is a long hallway with several rooms on either side. Reece walks slowly in front of me and I follow, hating how my gaze keeps dropping to his incredibly tight butt. Focus, Macey.

  A peek inside the first room only serves as a reminder that I shouldn’t have left my whiskey at the bar. Because, holy shit, there’s a naked woman strapped to a table. A man and a woman are leaned over her, each sucking on a breast while another man uses a large handheld massager on her fun bits as he strokes himself.

  Fucking A! I didn’t know clubs like this really existed, that people like this really existed. I spend most Saturday nights with a pizza and my remote—thank you, Netflix—and apparently I am really freaking sheltered.

  “You okay?” Reece’s voice is low and calm, as if he’s completely unaffected by the orgy happening just three feet from us.

  The scent of sex in the air makes me dizzy, and I can practically feel the hum of the vibrator, as though it’s being used on me. Straightening my shoulders, I fix my best sultry expression on my face. “Absolutely fine.”

  Pretending that I’m not completely thrown off, and geez, kind of horny, I follow him farther down the hall, wondering what else is in store for me.

  Next up is a medical exam room where a woman is probing a man who’s lying on the table, his feet in the stirrups. I probably didn’t need to see that. Quite a role reversal, though, and I appreciate that. Ten points for creativity. Next we watch two women who role-play a scene that involves spanking with a little whip thingy. My breath catches in my throat.

  “It’s called a riding crop,” Reece leans over and whispers.

  “Does it hurt?” Given the way the woman being spanked is leaning into it and moaning tells me no, but I don’t know if I trust her judgment. These people could all be half-crazy for all I know.

  “Depends on how it’s used.” His answer is coy, frustrating me since it tells me nothing about the toy or about his preferences for play. Of course, it only makes me more curious. Maybe that was his intention all along.

  As we continue the tour, Reece points to a series of closed doors at the far end of the hall. “Those are the private rooms for people who don’t want to put on a show, and want to experience something more intimate.”

  “And what about you? Which of these rooms do you prefer to play in?”

  “Depends on who I’m with. If my partner is more of an exhibitionist, or if I think the experience of being watched will push her outside her comfort zone, we might play in one of the common rooms. But for the most part, I tend to be a closed-door kind of guy.”

  Studying him for a moment, I try to digest everything I’ve just seen and reconcile it with the teenaged Reece I remember. I come up short; it just doesn’t compute. How the hell did he get from there to here?

  “Care to fill me in on the last six years? I mean, this is quite a detour from the man I knew.”

  He shrugs. “There’s really nothing to tell. I have certain needs and interests. And when I couldn’t find a place to satisfy all of those interests, I opened my own.”

  “How did you get this way?” I wince a little, not meaning to blurt it out like an accusation, then soften my voice. “I just don’t remember you ever having this fetish side to you.”

  His gaze darkens, telling me he’s hiding something from me. It makes me wonder; Cameron never mentioned anything out of the ordinary. Anytime I asked about Reece, my brother would merely give me a noncommittal grunt, and when I pushed and asked if Reece was seeing anyone, Cam’s reluctant response was always, “Several.”

  I’m really not sure what to make of this new revelation that Reece owns this place, that he lives and breathes BDSM, but I’m trying to loosen up and go with it. It’s exactly what I need to push all the depressing thoughts from my brain. It’s the ultimate distraction, perfectly timed.

  “Come on. You’ve probably had a long day,” he says, offering me his hand.

  “Where are we going?” I place my palm in his. His skin is warm, and an intoxicating male scent greets me as I get closer, some type of upscale men’s cologne. Yummy.

  “Do you have anywhere to stay tonight?”

  I shake my head. “I was planning to get a hotel room somewhere.”

  “It’s almost midnight. You probably won’t be able to get a cab or a hotel room at this hour. Come on. You can stay in my apartment. It’s upstairs.”

  “I could just stay down here, see if I can find someone to entertain myself with.” After what I’ve just witnessed, I’m sure that won’t be difficult. Shit, it might even be fun.

  He grips my hand tightly, and his reac
tion gives me a little spurt of confidence. “The hell you will. You’re going to bed.”

  Pulling my hand away, I plant both hands on my hips and meet his icy stare. “I’m not tired.”

  “Too damn bad. I don’t want to have to worry about you.”

  “This isn’t like when we were kids, Reece.”

  “You think I don’t know that? You’re all woman and that’s exactly why I’m not leaving you down here alone. It’d be like throwing you to the wolves.”

  “Maybe I want a little trouble.” I raise my eyebrows suggestively.

  He leans in closer. “Or I can tell Hale where you are.”

  Point taken. Changing tactic, I ask, “Do you have a bathtub?”

  His puzzled expression betrays his confusion. “I do.”

  “Fine, let’s go. I think I’ll take a hot soak. I’ve been traveling all day.”

  I follow him to the elevator, where he inserts a special key and hits a button for the top floor. No wonder this address came up when I searched for him. It’s not only his business, but also his residence. Reece has really submersed himself in this world, and I wish I understood more about it and the man he’s morphed into while I’ve been away.

  “You never answered my question,” I say, finally feeling the full effects of the alcohol. I’m drowsy and tipsy, and liable to say anything right about now.

  “And what question was that?” His voice is way too in control, and it’s annoying me.

  “You. Me.” I lift one eyebrow.

  “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

  Fuck it. Throwing caution to the wind, I lick my lips, noting the way his eyes follow the movement. “About you, pounding into me from behind. Me, screaming out your name.”

  “I told you. I need to talk to Hale.”

  “And say what?” I shoot back.