Cards of Love: Page of Swords

by Booth, Ainsley

  “What you saw downstairs, to start.” He frowns, his brows pulling hard over his dark, piercing eyes. “That was work.”

  “Great. Good.”

  “That was just work,” he repeats, stepping towards me.

  I back up, bumping into the counter. “You don’t need to explain that to me.”

  His gaze drills deep against me. “Except I think I do, for some reason.”

  “Oh.” This is the part where he lets me down easy. Or not so easy. His look isn’t very sympathetic right now. “Are you mad at me?”

  “Pardon?” His face gets even tighter. “No, I’m not mad at you, Meadow.”

  My hand shakes as I lift my arm and point my index finger at his eyebrows. “That’s not a happy look.”

  He blinks. And frowns even further. I don’t think it’s possible for a human being to look angrier than he looks right now.

  But he’s still not scary.

  He flicks his gaze from my face to my finger—still pointing at him—and then back to my face. “There’s a mile of other feelings between happy and angry,” he finally grates out.

  “Oh.”

  “I feel like I missed something, at some point, and it’s important. So I’m going to say this again. What you saw downstairs was work.”

  “She was touching you,” I blurt out.

  “She’s an ex.”

  “They’re all exes.”

  His eyes go wide, and well, there it is, I guess. In for a penny…

  I swallow hard. “You have an endless parade of exes. And they all touch you.”

  “You’ve noticed?”

  “I spend a lot of time in your bar, Bas. Yes, I notice. It’s right in front of me.”

  “You’ve never said anything.”

  I take a deep breath. “No, I haven’t.”

  “Do you want to say something now?”

  My heart hammers against my ribs. Not really. “You seem to have a type. I mean, if one were a casual observer of all things Bas, one might notice some consistency on that front.”

  “And you might be that kind of casual observer?”

  I nod.

  He moves closer, and my hand—still between us—pushes against his chest. Or his chest presses into my fingers, curling them into a soft fist between us. He leans in and rests his hands on the counter on either side of me.

  I’m still not scared of him. Scared of my feelings, absolutely. Scared of being rejected, even, which is starting to feel a bit silly.

  If he was going to reject me his mouth wouldn’t be this close.

  His perfect, soft, full lips.

  His white teeth, set in a straight line as he smiles at me.

  “You don’t look mad anymore,” I whisper.

  “I’m not angry. I told you that.” His voice is soft and quiet now, too. Like we’re exchanging secrets. “I had no idea you were watching me.”

  “I didn’t want you to know.”

  “Why not?” His hot gaze pins me down. Like I can’t escape his inspection.

  “There was always someone else. And when there wasn’t, you were…uninterested.”

  Something dark flickers in his eyes, and a corresponding hard tug deep inside me responds.

  I remember back to how I landed here in the first place. Max had told Bas about me, and then suggested I look him up. Bas was looking for someone just like me, but I chickened out. Maybe it wasn’t too late to follow up on that. “Did I give you the impression that I might not be the girl for you, Bas? Because I like you. A lot. I want you. A lot.”

  He laughs, a harsh, unexpected sound that ricochets around my kitchen. It sends a shiver down my spine and makes my thighs quiver. “That could be a dangerous proposition.”

  “Maybe I like danger.”

  “Whoa,” he whispers, his face softening. “Hang on, that wasn’t what I meant. I’m not any kind of threat to you, sweetness. Okay?”

  Now it’s my turn to laugh, a nervous giggle. “I wasn’t opposed to the dangerous proposition.”

  He sways over me, his mouth twisting in a matching smile. “I heard that.”

  My heart rate is now speeding along like a freight train. “Am I doing this all wrong?”

  He shakes his head. “Nope.”

  “I mean, we haven’t even kissed yet, and I’m telling you I want you to…”

  His eyes search my face as I trail off. “Yes?”

  My cheeks turn pink. “I don’t know.”

  “Should we start with a kiss, then?”

  The freight train in my chest slams into a mountain of need. “Yes, please.”

  Using his index finger, he tips my chin up and gently brushes his lips to mine. I’ve waited so long for this. I open to him, eagerly. He tastes me first, a hungry slide of tongue against tongue. It’s rough and soft at the same time, commanding and delicious. When his licks slow, I suckle on his tongue gently, playing with it. He groans and squeezes my waist, then drops his hand to my hip.

  So close to my ass. But he doesn’t palm it, doesn’t squeeze it.

  No spanks for me, because neither of us are psychic.

  And there’s at least a part of Bas that is sweet, because he rubs my hip and lifts his hand back to my chin, easing out of our lingering, amazing kiss. “That’s probably enough for tonight.”

  “What? No.” I tug on his shoulders and brush my lips against his jaw. “Get back here. I want more.”

  “Or we can take it easy and—”

  “I’ve wanted to use you as a sex toy for six months. We don’t need to wait a second longer.”

  He groans and shakes his head. “Please stop talking. If I’m going to leave, you’ve gotta—”

  “I imagined your fingers inside me for ages. Why would I want you to leave?” I glare up at him, feeling bright and bold and challenging. Fearless. “I imagined your tongue on me—”

  “That’s enough,” He growls, hooking his fingers into the front of my jeans. My skin sizzles under his touch.

  With his thumb, he flicks the button free. Then he wrenches the zipper down and peels the denim open. He whispers my name as he strokes the bare skin of my belly, and he crushes his mouth against mine again. This kiss is hard and fast, obscene and demanding.

  As his lips work against mine, he teases with is tongue, licking and thrusting. I’m taking this as a promise of what it will feel like between my legs. And his fingers get as far as my panties before he stops again.

  This time, he doesn’t pull away.

  He just stops.

  I can feel how conflicted he is. And I know it’s a big, hard conflict, because there’s something big and hard pressing against my hip. I rub against his erection and he groans again.

  “Here’s the thing,” he says, his breath ragged and his eyes wild as he looks down at me. “I want to take you to bed now. I want to stay there for a week and talk about all the filthy things you want me to do to you. But we don’t have that kind of time right now, and I have to re-design a street party to accommodate the wife of the prime minister getting her public kink on in a safe-for-public consumption way.”

  “What?”

  “That’s what Corinne was here about.” He kisses me again. “I want your help with that, if you’re willing?”

  I’m the textbook definition of willing, for anything and everything Bas might want. “Sure.” I still don’t quite follow. One minute we were making out and his fingers were an inch away from my clit. Now he’s talking about the street party. “Why can’t we have sex?”

  “Because you’ve watched me, Meadow. You know I’m a shitty boyfriend. I ghost women when I do a deep dive into projects. I forget dates. And nobody minds that much, because everyone has my number, and it’s no big deal when we drift in different directions. You’ve seen all of that, right?”

  I blink at him. Yeah, I have. And yes, that’s how I’d sum it all up.

  But wouldn’t we be different?

  He cups my face in his hands. His big, warm, sexy hands, which I’ve want
ed on my body for months now. And he sighs. “I don’t want to be that guy for you. I’m not that guy, not always. I’ll tell you all about that some other time. But tonight, I want you to go to sleep knowing I won’t hurt you. That I’ll wait until I can give you my all.”

  “So sex will be next week?”

  He grins. “Halloween, if you want.”

  I have to work tomorrow. And I don’t have to work the day after the street party. This is a good plan.

  My body doesn’t agree. My body wants Bas now, in whatever way we can get him.

  But he’s right. We should take things a bit slower. Spend a week kissing and talking, and then there’s the small matter of me coming clean about how I wound up in his apartment… “Okay,” I whisper as he brushes his lips against mine again. “Next week. And yes, I’ll help you clean up your dirty street party.”

  “An hour ago I thought you were the right person to consult on all things sweet,” he murmurs. “And then you said those filthy things about what you want me to do to you…”

  I roll my eyes. “If you don’t think the PM and his wife are super dirty, I’ve got some news for you.”

  He shakes his head. “Don’t tell me.”

  “The way they look at each other…”

  Bas presses his forehead against mine. “You’re telling me anyway.”

  I smile. “And I know some people who know him.” Max, who knows Bas too, but now is not the time to admit that. “And they strike me as kinky, too. I don’t know. I just get the feeling.”

  He shrugs his big, broad shoulders. “And I know people who are for sure kinky around the PM, and they’ve never said anything, so who knows. But it’s as good a theory as any, so let’s go on that idea: Mrs. Strong is secretly kinky, and can’t explore that in public most of the time. So how do we make the whole thing safe for public news consumption but also delightfully perverted for everyone, including a VIP?”

  8

  Bas

  My principles carry me as far as my own apartment. As soon as I close the door behind me, I lift my hand to my face and breathe in the scent of Meadow on my fingers.

  Fuck. I deserve a medal for not fucking her tonight.

  But she has to work in the morning—which means leaving at five. I’m not selfishly robbing her sleep because I want to get inside her body.

  We’re going to take some time. Do this right. Talk more, kiss more, and when we have all the time in the world, we’ll take it to the next level.

  “I’ve wanted to use you as a sex toy for six months.”

  My cock throbs as Meadow’s words ring in my ears. There’s so much about this woman I still need to discover so we can do this right. This. I don’t even know what it is, but I know it’s different. I want a relationship with Meadow—what we already have, plus kinky sex. I want to tie her up, hold her down, make her scream.

  I usually date inside the kink-familiar pool of Ottawa submissives. Kink first, chemistry second. And honestly, until Meadow bounced into my bar, I didn’t care that much about chemistry. A good scene could work with anyone. Negotiate, do the thing, mutually get off, and be done with it. Rinse and repeat until it got boring.

  Maybe I missed an opportunity tonight to explain that to Meadow. All those women were basically friends with benefits. Bondage benefits, discipline benefits…

  But does she need to know that level of detail about my past when maybe it doesn’t matter for her? Because with Meadow, it’s all chemistry. I’m not thinking about scenes. I’m thinking about skin and moans, sleepy fucking and naked cuddling.

  I lean back against the door and palm my cock through my jeans. Cuddling that might lead to wrestling. Pinning her down and forcing her legs open. Sweet, pale thighs. Dark red curls and pink, wet skin.

  A hand on her arm, another on her leg. Dragging my cock through her slick folds. Whispering all sorts of filthy threats.

  Her eyes, bright. Challenging. Her mouth just as dirty as mine.

  That was the best surprise of tonight. Meadow isn’t meek in the least. She wants things.

  I shudder as I squeeze the aching crown of my dick.

  Fuck.

  Flipping off the lights, I unzip my jeans and throw myself onto my couch. It doesn’t take long. A few rough jerks, then a faster stroke. Meadow’s words rocketing around in my brain.

  My dirty, sweet, good little one.

  I’m going to make the next week so good for her. Waiting will be delicious.

  * * *

  But Meadow doesn’t come home the next night. She’s on a twenty-four hour shift at the hospital and sticking close there, she says in a text.

  Then she sends me a follow-up cartoon image of a woman wiggling out of her panties.

  Bas: That’s delightfully filthy.

  Meadow: It’s my secret after-dark brand.

  Bas: I like it just as much as your public brand.

  Meadow: I gotta go. ORs don’t wait for sexting.

  Surgery also interferes with me telling her about my secret after-dark brand. And when she comes home the next day it’s to sleep. By the time she wakes up, I’m behind the bar.

  That doesn’t stop me from kissing her. I drag her behind the bar and hold her close, savouring the feel of her body in my arms, her lips against mine. And when she cheerily perches on a stool across from me, I make a silent pledge to hire a part-time bartender so I can make time for her in the evenings after long shifts like that.

  The rest of the week speeds by in a blur of kisses and missed conversations, because Meadow’s schedule is insane.

  And one of Tessa’s baristas answers my job ad for the bartender gig, opening up three nights a week for me to be a good boyfriend. He starts the night before Halloween, and I use my newfound freedom to do even more work.

  Tessa and I do a dress rehearsal of the street shut-down. Even without volunteers, we do a full roll-out in an hour, which is great.

  “I had no doubt,” she says when I walk her back to the bakery. “My Tarot card reading today was excellent.”

  “Cool.”

  She gives me a look like she’s going to offer a reading, and I don’t know if it’s because of calendar, or what’s going on with Meadow, but a part of me would take it.

  Except she doesn’t offer, so I mooch an end-of-day muffin off her and head back to the bar. I’m glad the new guy is serving drinks tonight because I’m not in a public mood.

  I’m in a Meadow kind of mood, but she’s working all night. She’ll get off at seven tomorrow morning, sleep all day, and be good to go for the party.

  Bas: I’m eating a Tessa muffin and thinking of you.

  Meadow: That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard. I’m picking at a slice of cold pizza.

  Bas: Sexy.

  She sends a selfie with the pizza slice, and it is sexy. Her hair is messy and her eyes are bright.

  Bas: Yeah, you're fucking hot.

  Meadow: Your turn.

  I slouch back in my chair and turn on my camera. At the last second I drop my hand into my lap, my fingers surrounding the thick shape of my cock through my jeans.

  She likes it.

  Meadow: Hello, mister. I can’t wait to crawl all over you tomorrow.

  Bas: Right back at you. Tell me what your costume is.

  Meadow: Nope. It’s a surprise.

  Bas: Tease.

  Meadow: You can spank me for that later.

  I grin at the screen.

  Bas: I’d like that. Spanking, eh?

  Meadow: If you like.

  Bas: I like.

  9

  Meadow

  Bas wants to spank me.

  I put it out there and he picked it up like a king. A gorgeous, kinky, thoughtful king.

  We’ve had a week of kisses. A week of bodies pressed close and long, gorgeous hugs, but nothing more.

  His plan to wait until after the party was a good one. The last month has been hectic at work, and now I’m looking at a lighter load for the next two weeks.


  Lighter is relative for an obstetrician, but I’ll have nights and weekends off.

  And Bas will be able to focus on me. Us. This week has made me look at him differently. He’s still the man I hunger for, but since admitting just how much I’ve wanted him, I’ve had to take a hard look at the reasons I’d talked myself into for not doing anything sooner—all my doubts about whether he would be able to commit, or if he was too flighty.

  But the last week has shown me that he’s restless, not reckless. For all his outwardly social behaviour, he’s really an introvert and deep-down, quite cautious. I think it’s possible that Bas has always held himself back—from relationships, from opportunities—to protect himself.

  So I’m skipping as I leave the hospital on the morning of Halloween. Literally hopping with excitement, and I bounce right into Max Donovan in the parking lot.

  In my defence, he steps out from behind a pillar just as I begin a twirl. He catches me and spins me away from him in one fluid motion. “You could be a figure skater for Halloween,” he says with a chuckle.

  “So could you.” I catch my breath and wave my hand in apology. “Sorry about that.”

  “You are way too peppy for this early in the morning. Did you show up and realize you didn’t need to stay?”

  “Oh, I wish. No, I just got off a twenty-four-hour shift. But I’ve got party plans tonight.” I wiggle my shoulders. “Bas’s street party.”

  “Oh!” Max’s eyebrows hit the roof. “That’s great. I didn’t realize you’d kept in touch with him.”

  Right. Because I’d told him it didn’t work out, and then I definitely didn’t tell him that I’d moved into the apartment over Bas’s bar.

  Max, like everyone else at the hospital, still thinks I live in my condo five blocks from here.

  I mean, technically I do. I stay there once in a while when I don’t want to drive all the way to Metcalfe.

  Ugh. Happy vibe busted. I paste on a smile. “It’s a long, weird story. We’ve become friends over time.”