by M. S. Parker
I shifted in my seat, reaching down to adjust myself. I hadn't had the pleasure of having her mouth around my cock, but I'd felt the wet heat with my tongue, and I could imagine how amazing it would feel. I let myself drift back into the fantasy, preferring it even to the two women doing a scene on stage.
Her tongue moved around and over my shaft, teased across the tip of my cock. She was a natural, quickly learning the things that I liked, including some that I hadn't even known until she'd done them.
I let her take me to the edge, then tugged her hair to signal to her to pull back. Her lips were swollen, glistening, eyes glazed. I reached down to cup her breast, ran my thumb over her hard nipple. She moaned.
“Hands and knees,” I instructed. “Ass in the air.”
She turned immediately, positioning herself exactly how I wanted, leaning forward on her elbows, her nipples brushing the plush carpet. Her bare lips were damp, inviting, but it wasn't her pussy I wanted right now. I'd have that later. Right now, I wanted that tight ring of muscle wrapped around my cock.
I drained my drink and swapped out my empty glass for the new one the waitress brought. I could still feel what it'd been like to have my finger in her ass, and I knew my imagination couldn't do justice to how it would feel to be the first one to fuck her there.
I wanted to be the first. I wanted to see all the different ways I could make her come, explore her body, watch her come apart in my arms.
And that was the problem. I could see plenty of women around here that I would've been fine fucking a couple weeks ago. One word and we'd be in one of the private rooms, or back at her place. With a woman from the club, all we'd need was an established safe word, and we'd be good to go. Handcuffs, crops, ball gags, clamps – without a safe word, they'd all be on the table. And if I wanted someone's ass, I knew at least half the women here wouldn't just be okay with it, but enjoy it. Prefer it, even.
I didn't want any of those women, though, and it was pissing me off. I'd worked hard to get where I was, and while I'd had some advantages, nothing had been handed to me. Female attention, however, had always come easily. I wasn't used to wanting a woman I couldn't have.
As I worked my way through my second drink, I wondered if things would be going down a different path if Kyndall wasn't Dalton's sister. From my side of things, I was already feeling guilty about having slept with my friend's little sister, but if I didn't have that guilt, I would've tried to see her again. I just didn't know if that was what she would want.
“Dean!”
A man's voice carried over the music. A familiar man's voice.
Dalton.
Shit.
I looked over and saw him and Juliette walking toward me. Judging by the expression on his face, either I'd done something I didn't know about, or he'd found out about me and Kyndall. I was betting on the latter.
I stood. “Dalton. Juliette.”
“Hey, Dean.” Juliette smiled at me, nothing in her greeting saying she'd learned anything new recently.
“Did you sleep with my sister, Stokes?”
Juliette gave him a startled look, but he didn't look at her. Instead, he took a step toward me.
“Did you have sex with my little sister?”
“Dalton.” Juliette sounded appalled.
“I'm sorry, but that's not your business.” I kept my tone easy, reminding myself that he was just being overprotective. “If she wants to tell you anything, that's up to her.”
“I'll take that as a yes.” Dalton's eyes flashed, and he came even closer. “Did you know who she was when you did it?”
The fact that he was asking meant he didn't know the details, and I didn't intend to be the one who explained. That wasn't my place. He was my friend, but she was his sister. She had the right to decide how much he knew or didn't know.
“Dalton.” Juliette put her hand on her husband's arm. “Take a step back.”
He looked like he wanted to argue, but her fingers flexed, and he did as she said. It didn't, however, stop him from asking another question, “Have you been giving her money?”
I blinked, surprised by the question. “No.”
He gave me a hard look. “Do you know where she works?”
I shook my head again and bit back a comment about how Kyndall and I hadn't really talked when we'd been together. That would've been a monumentally stupid thing to say to an overprotective brother.
“She's got an apartment in the same building as us,” he frowned as he said it. “And I have no clue how in the hell she's paying for it.”
I glanced at Juliette, who shrugged, like that was a help. I turned back to Dalton. “That might be something you need to talk to Kyndall about.”
The muscle in his jaw clenched. “I don't know what happened between the two of you, but whatever it was, it's over right now. Stay away from my sister, Dean. I mean it.”
Chapter Ten
Kyndall
First, I cleaned up the mess Anthony had made while he watched from the safety of his playpen. Fortunately, he seemed to be fascinated with what I was doing and didn't cry. Or he could've just been on a bit of a sugar high. Either way, I was grateful that he wasn't crying.
I looked over the list of instructions Juliette had left next. Her mother had given me a list twice as long when I'd watched Anthony before, and I wondered if it was because Mrs. Breckenridge had gone overboard, or because Juliette knew me better. It was probably something in between.
The next couple hours were busy as I got Anthony fed, changed, bathed, and then got him put to bed. It was tiring but satisfying in a way that was different from anything else I'd done. I wasn't ready to have one of my own, not yet, but as I settled back down on the couch, I realized I could see a future with kids in it.
That hadn't always been the case. One of the things about doing so much at a young age, I always felt like I had to keep up with the people I considered my peers, even though they were older than me. Relationships, however, had been the one place where I hadn't needed to worry. Women who went to graduate school could focus on work and not be expected to get married and have kids right away. So I'd never really let myself think about it in anything more than the vaguest of ideas. The fact that I hadn't had any serious relationships made it easy.
Now, I was starting to think that a family might be something I wanted.
I sighed as I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. There were two problems with thinking that way.
One, my current employment didn't exactly scream “mother of the year.”
Two, Dean.
I wasn't in a serious relationship with anyone, and I wanted to be before I started thinking kids. I didn't have anything against single moms, and if I had to be one, I would, but it wasn't the path I preferred to take. I was pretty sure Dean wasn't the sort of guy who wanted anything serious, and that was okay because I hadn't slept with him with that in mind. I'd only wanted sex. But now, I couldn't stop thinking about him, which meant I wasn't open to meeting anyone else.
I needed to get him out of my head, but the thrumming in my body at just the thought of him said it wouldn’t be as easy as I hoped. I hadn't had any expectations when I'd brought him to my apartment. Nothing apart from orgasms anyway. I'd had other one-night stands or casual flings that lasted a week or two, and my time with Dean should've been the same.
So why couldn't I stop thinking about him? Why could I still feel his hands on my body? That'd never happened to me before. Even when I'd masturbated, my fantasies had been about anonymous men whose faces I never focused on. Since sleeping with Dean, he was the only person I could see when I closed my eyes. And it wasn't only his body I saw, or even his face. I couldn't stop myself from seeing his eyes. The way they'd darkened when he'd looked at me, the heat and desire that he didn't even try to hide.
I sighed, mentally cursing myself for having slept with Dean in the first place. I should've just gone back to the hotel after the wedding, gotten a good night's sleep, and then dealt with my parents the ne
xt morning. It wasn't like LA was devoid of hot guys who'd be willing to have sex with no strings attached. I could've gone out at any other point and found someone.
But I hadn't, and there wasn't really a point in wishing that things had been different. It wouldn't change anything. All I could do was move forward from here.
I'd go out this weekend, I decided. Do some exploring. If I was going to make this place home, I needed to do more than go to clubs for dancing, drinking, sex, and the occasional poker game.
Maybe I'd talk to Juliette about asking Hanna if the two of them wanted to come. I'd always been a bit of a loner, mostly because of my age, and the thought of having two women I could talk to was appealing. Even though they were both married and had kids, I'd gotten the impression that we'd have other things in common, including the fact that they didn't seem to surround themselves with tons of people.
I was finished with school, had my own place in a city where I wanted to settle down. It was time to start building a life here. Not something that I could pick up and leave without much thought like I had with Cambridge. Now that I had all of my things here, I didn't really miss it. No, I wanted to build something real here. The kind of thing that Dalton had with Juliette. Something real and lasting.
I pulled my hair out of my ponytail and massaged my sore scalp. A knot of anxiety and anticipation coiled in my stomach. I'd spent so much time thinking about when I'd be on my own, when I'd have a life I could control, that I hadn't given much thought to what I was actually going to do when I got there.
I heard someone at the door and turned toward it, frowning as I heard Juliette's and Dalton's raised voices before they stepped inside.
“And I'm telling you, Dalton, that you're out of line, no matter how noble your intentions may be.”
Juliette's normally pleasant voice was tense, and I got to my feet, wondering if I should duck back into the hallway and wait for them to either call for me or come back to Anthony's room. I wasn't foolish enough to think that because I'd never heard them argue that they didn't, but it didn't make things any less awkward.
“Kyndall!” Dalton practically shouted my name and my head jerked up.
“Dalton, keep your voice down,” Juliette snapped. “Anthony's sleeping.”
I was glad she'd remembered because I was too shocked by the way my brother was glowering at me to remember much of anything at the moment. Dalton crossed the few feet between us in several angry strides and looked down at me like he had that time when we were kids, and he'd caught me pulling his Playboys out from under his mattress.
I frowned. Had Anthony made a mess I hadn't seen? That had to be it because there wasn't anything else Dalton could be so pissed about. Unless...the thought hit me suddenly. Dean. Shit.
“You had sex with Dean Stokes?”
“Leave it alone, Dalton,” Juliette hissed.
“Why?” He didn't look at her. “Dean said if I wanted to know what happened, then I should ask her.”
“You saw Dean?” I tried to ignore the way my heart skipped a beat at his name. Nothing good would come of that.
“That's not what he said, Dalton, and you know it.” Juliette's arms were folded across her chest, every line of her body tense. “He said that if Kyndall wanted you to know what happened between them, she'd tell you.”
“I want to know, Kyndall. Did you fuck my friend?”
A spark of temper flared, and I glared up at him. “That's none of your damn business, Dalton! I'm an adult, in case you've forgotten. If I want to go out to a club and take home a couple of guys to fuck, I can.”
Color flooded his face. “Don't be crude.”
“You started it,” I shot back.
“That's mature.”
Juliette threw up her hands. “I'm going to check on our son.” She shot a withering glance at Dalton and then headed toward Anthony's room.
I blew out a sharp breath. I didn't want to fight with my brother. Not over this. “Look, Dalton, I know you're just trying to protect me, but I've been basically living on my own for six years. I've had sex. I've gotten drunk. So have you. Unless you want me to start asking all sorts of questions about the things you've done in your life, don't do it to me.”
“He's too old for you–”
“I'm not having this conversation with you again, Dalton. Who I sleep with is my business, no one else's. If I want your opinion, I'll ask.” I kept my chin up, my voice even.
“Is he giving you money?”
Okay, not the way I saw the conversation going. “What?”
“Money, Kyndall. You met him after the wedding, and then you suddenly have enough money to put a deposit down on an apartment that you could never afford–”
“Dalton Emerson Letlow,” I said his full name slowly, giving him the time to know that I'd gone from pissed to full-out angry. “I'm really hoping that you just didn't think before you spoke, because if you actually meant to imply that I let your friend pay to fuck me, then we're going to have a serious problem.”
“You said what?!” Juliette barely kept her voice down. “What the hell happened while I was gone?”
“I didn't say that,” Dalton said.
“It sounded an awful lot like it,” I said tightly. “But I'm going to pretend that your question wasn't insulting and answer it anyway. No. Dean hasn't given me any money. But where I got the money for my apartment isn't any of your concern.”
“I'm just trying to look out for you.”
I glared at him. I knew he was telling the truth, but that didn't mean I had to like the way he was doing it, and I wasn't going to pretend it was okay.
“I took care of myself fine at MIT. I can take care of myself here.”
“I just don't want you doing something you'll regret because you think you have to prove something.”
I'd had enough, and it took all of my self-control to keep from shouting. “First of all, I have a fucking Ph.D. from MIT, and no student loans to pay off. I did it all on my own, so I don't know what the hell you think I would need to prove.”
He opened his mouth, but I pointed at him, and he shut it again.
“And second of all, talking about something I'd regret makes it sound like you're calling me a prostitute. Again.”
“I'm not,” he insisted. “I just know that there are some types of jobs that you might regret having done later on in life. Like when you want to get married or have kids.”
“You mean like my choice of vocation.”
Juliette's voice was cold, and I turned toward her, surprised, both by her tone and her words. She was a caterer, and a damn good one, judging by the apartment. What did that have anything to do with this conversation?
“Juliette.”
Her name sounded more like a warning than I thought it should have. Dalton should've been apologizing for whatever it was Juliette thought he was saying. Instead, he sounded like he was telling her to be quiet.
“No, Dalton, I think your sister deserves to know a bit more about us, especially since you're trying to sound all high and mighty.” She turned to me. “He's worried that you're doing something similar to me. Doing the things I did before Anthony was born.”
I was confused but didn't interrupt. I had a feeling this was part of what had made Juliette so riled when they'd first come in, but now it seemed to be connecting to my conversation with Dalton, so I kept quiet and waited. If she wanted me to leave, she'd tell me.
“That's different,” he protested.
“How, Dalton? You want to explain to your sister, and me, how your comments implying your sister is doing something...improper to make a living has nothing to do with us meeting when I was supplementing my income being a dominatrix.”
Everything went quiet. Like pin-dropping quiet.
I really shouldn't have heard that. Dalton was clearly not happy, and now I had some mental images of my sister-in-law that I couldn't unsee.
“We didn't meet when you were...I didn't pay...”
If t
he situation had been different, I might've been amused by my brother stumbling over his words. This wasn't even close to funny though.
“No, that was two consenting adults having sex because they wanted to,” she replied. “But you knew what I was doing, and you didn't seem to have a problem with it when it was me, but heaven forbid your little sister act like her own person.”
“You stopped doing that when you got pregnant.”
“I stopped when you and I decided we were going to see if we worked as a couple.”
Something crossed his face, and I decided that I didn't want to be here anymore, not even if Juliette didn't mind.
“Would you have kept doing it if we hadn't started dating? How long would you have kept at it even when you were pregnant with our son?”
I started to make my way toward the door. Neither one even glanced at me.
“Do you want another Sub?” Dalton's voice cracked.
Yeah, definitely time to go.
No matter how freaked out I was about Juliette's revelation, or how unsettled I felt about things between Dalton and me, this was a private conversation that I didn't need to be a part of.
Chapter Eleven
Dean
Well, that was a complete and utter fuck-up.
Aside from a couple good drinks, everything else about tonight had been a bust. I hadn't been having much fun outside of my little fantasies, and then Dalton had shown up to tell me, in no uncertain terms, to stay away from Kyndall.
I respected his place as her brother, and as his friend, I should respect his request, even if it had actually been more of an order. But I still wanted her. If I pursued her, though, it could drive a wedge between her and her brother, and that was the last thing I wanted to do. Ruining my friendship would be bad enough. Being responsible for ruining a family was something else entirely.
I yanked my shirt over my head and tossed it onto the sofa. This whole thing was fucked up. I wanted her but knew that going after her would have the sort of repercussions I wasn't willing to risk. My only option was to sit back and wait to see what happened. To see if I could forget her and move on to the next person. To see if, by some fluke, Kyndall and I ran into each other, and I could convince her to...to do what, exactly? Go on a date? Sleep with me again?
