by Cathryn Cade
They walked through the club, and since Jake was not given to being all smiley even when he was in a good mood, no one but Trace, who was chatting up a new D/s couple at the bar, gave him a second look. But then Trace knew him better than anyone except Dack. Trace said something to the couple that made them smile, and slid off his barstool. Jake sighed. Great, two on one.
In the office, the three of them sank into the comfortable leather chairs, and Jake accepted a highball glass with golden liquid in the bottom. “From a local micro-distillery,” Dack said. “Real smooth. Aged in Oregon oak.”
Trace didn’t take a glass, as he was on duty. He also sat where he could see the monitors.
Jake took a drink. The whiskey was smooth, sliding over his tongue but with a wicked kick in his throat. Kind of like Carlie. He couldn’t have been more shocked if she’d slapped his face.
“So,” Dack said. “Thought things were goin’ okay with you and Carlie.” He dropped something in Jake’s lap—his key. “Guess not so much.”
“So did I,” Jake said. He took another drink and swallowed. “She wants…I don’t know. Romantic shit.”
Trace moved, standing and crossing his arms. “Like what?”
Jake shifted in his chair. How the hell had he gotten to a place where he was being quizzed by his partners and fellow doms like a schoolboy? “Kissing.” There, it was out.
Dack and Trace were silent for a moment, then Dack’s eyes twinkled like mad, although he had the wisdom to bite back his grin, because Jake was coiled to come out of his chair and knock the fool right on his ass. Work off some of his sexual frustration, anyway. He hadn’t been done with her, not by a long shot.
“Right. Romantic shit. Ah, you don’t kiss your subs?”
Jake took a drink. “Look, I know you like mouth-to-mouth. Watched you do it often enough. I don’t.” Never liked swapping spit with a woman, getting lipstick or gloss all over his mouth, her makeup on his face, etc.
When a woman lifted her face to his, he saw another face in their place.
Drunk, sloppy, lipstick and eye makeup smeared over her face. Pretty once, until she’d let alcohol and cigarettes take the place of food and sleep. She wandered into the trailer, sun at her back, her scanty clothing askew, skinny legs bare, hair in a rat’s nest. Swaying in the doorway, she looked around as if wondering how she got there.
Then her gaze landed on him, curled up in the ancient recliner, reading a book from the school library. Probably a nonfiction on one of the armed forces, because he’d already begun dreaming and planning how to get out of the squalor of his life by joining up. A drunken smile stretching her face, she tottered across the room to him.
“Hey, Jakey. How ya doin’, baby boy?”
“Okay,” he grunted, sliding lower in his chair, his muscles tense. She leaned over his chair, and he grimaced. She stank of stale booze, smoke and sweat, not all of it hers.
“C’mere,” she crooned. “Give your mama a big kiss.”
His face tight with revulsion, he let her tip his face up and plant a sloppy kiss on his face. Her breath was sour, her mouth wet. As soon as she let go, he lifted his arm and swiped his face on the sleeve of his tight, faded T-shirt.
Then he flinched as a hard slap rocked his head. He ducked from the next blow, bolting out of the chair and across the tiny room, facing her, anger and disgust roiling inside him. “What was that for?” His voice cracked, going from deep to childish and back.
His mother sneered at him, one hand on her hip. “Think you’re too good for me? That it? Stupid little shit. Never gonna amount to nothin’, just gonna be a big hunk of muscle, like your old man. Ray Stone’s son, big fuckin’ deal.”
She swatted the air, dismissing him, and turned away to wander down the narrow hallway of the trailer, mumbling to herself. Leaving him swallowing a hot ball in his throat. He’d waited till she was safely in the master bedroom before returning to his chair and burying himself in his book. Dreaming about the day he could join up and live a life of discipline, honor and control, away from the chaos that was home.
Jake drained his glass, and forced his attention back to the office. His friends were watching him.
“Women place a lot of importance on kissing,” Trace put in, his tone carefully neutral.
Jake remembered the look on Carlie’s face, the way her luscious mouth had gone slack, then trembled as her eyes filled with hurt. Yeah, she wanted to kiss him. Or she had.
So why had he shied away from her kiss, even after she’d taken his cock bare, something he hadn’t allowed himself with a woman in years?
Somehow, from his mother’s fake smooches, kissing had come to symbolize all the lies he wanted to avoid in a relationship. Sex at the club was about enjoying each other, sharing their particular kink, but with no entanglement.
Kissing took it to another level, a far more personal one. Kissing meant letting her in.
The way she’d let him in, literally and emotionally.
Shit, he felt like something she ought to scrape off her pretty shoes. For a sub to let herself go, she had to trust the man dominating her, had to let him into her fantasies and her emotions. As Carlie had him. Her mouth had felt like heaven on his bare cock, and her kneeling at his feet as she took him had raised it to the Nth level of satisfaction.
Fucking hell. He drained his glass. “Think I fucked up.”
“Yup, sure sounds that way.” Dack sounded cheerful as all hell. Of course, he had things all settled with a hot, willing sub. Daisy thought he hung the fuckin’ moon, and showed it. “Better fix it, bro.”
Jake then remembered his own voice saying, “You walk out, we’re done.” Pretty fucking final. At the time he’d meant it too.
Now, he wasn’t so sure. Besides, Carlie didn’t wear a lot of gloppy lipstick. She’d had lip gloss on, but he was pretty sure it was now all over his cock. Man, she really did have the sexiest mouth he’d seen in…maybe ever. And if kissing made her happy, she’d be ready to try some new things he couldn’t wait to do with her.
He groaned. “I’m so screwed.”
His two best friends, being the loyal brothers they were, started to laugh.
Jake considered kicking both their asses, decided it would only wreck their expensive office furniture and wasn’t worth the effort besides, so he leaned his head back on soft leather and wondered what the fuck he was gonna do to fix this.
Daisy and Sara were sympathetic over a bottle of white wine on Carlie’s back deck.
“He wouldn’t kiss you?” Daisy repeated, her expression indignant in a loyal-girlfriend way. “Wow, that’s cold. I thought Jake was really into you.”
Carlie snorted. “He sure liked my mouth elsewhere.” She took another slug of wine, drained her glass and reached for the bottle. Maybe enough wine would drown the shame of how enthusiastic she’d been, how proud and happy when he stroked her hair afterward. Yeah, ’cause she was a good little sub. One of many for the big dom.
Sara leaned forward. “You, um, went down on him?”
Carlie nodded dolefully. “And I liked it. The bastard.” Her friends nodded emphatically. A guy should be appreciative of that, truly appreciative. As in kiss a woman’s feet if she wanted, much less her mouth.
“Cool that you enjoyed it,” Daisy said as an aside. “Guys prize that.”
“And you must be good at it, if he liked it. So use your, um, skill to get another dom,” Sara suggested.
Carlie and Daisy stared at her, and she shrugged. “What? The club is to meet guys, right? Things don’t work out with one, it’s a target-rich environment. Lots more doms where he came from.”
“There’s nobody else where Jake came from,” Carlie muttered. “Carved him out of solid rock and wore out the tools.” Not to mention that the thought of putting her mouth on any other guy’s cock made her stomach churn in disgust. She was still in shock that she’d enjoyed doing that to him. She’d swallowed his come.
Daisy and Sara exchanged a look but said n
othing more on that.
By her third glass of wine, Carlie was deciding which dom to go after next.
“Mase,” she decided, waving her wineglass. “He’s cute, he’s hot, and I know he likes kissing, ’cause I’ve seen him do it.”
“Seen him do a lot of things,” Sara said. “A lot. You sure you’re up for public display?”
“Middle of the dance floor?” Carlie winced. “Maybe not.”
“There’s Trace,” Daisy said slyly.
Carlie looked at Sara and shook her head vehemently. “Nope. He’s into redheads.”
Sara said nothing, taking a drink of wine, but her cheeks were pink. Daisy widened her eyes at Carlie.
They sipped their wine.
“I know,” Daisy suggested. “Come to the club next weekend with me and Dack, and I’ll have him hook you up with someone. There are a couple of new guys I haven’t met. One’s pretty cute. Oh, and there’s Griff, the bartender. Although I hear he never scenes with the same sub twice in a row.”
Carlie shrugged. “Sure. Whatever. I just wanna have fun, y’know?”
Sara looked at the level of wine in the bottle. “You’re sloshed, Car. Which is okay, I guess, since you don’t have to drive anywhere.”
“Just don’t be making any drunk phone calls,” Daisy warned. “I did that once. Not pretty.”
Carlie giggled, picturing her bubbly friend reaming some guy over the phone. Her friends joined in, and Carlie laughed until her eyes filled with tears.
Her mirth turning to grief, she sniffled, swiped at her eyes and gave a shuddery sigh. Jake might as well have called her a whore, because that was what she felt like.
“Damn,” she whispered. “I really thought he was the one…you know? When he tied me up, I felt so safe, ’cause I knew he’d take care of everything.”
Sara leaned over to hug her. “We know, honey.”
Carlie hugged her back. Sara did know about heartbreak—she’d married her first love, who’d then proceeded to cheat on her with every woman who caught his eye. Since his eyes roved, that was a lot.
“Now I’ll have to watch Jake walk upstairs with every other sub at Club 3, and I can’t even say anything,” she said thickly. “It’s not cheating, since he’s a dom. I’m not even s’posed to feel hurt.”
Daisy squeezed her hand. “Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry. Lots of women fall for their first doms. I’m just lucky mine fell for me too.”
Carlie sniffled. “How could he help it?” she asked loyally.
Daisy gave her an air kiss, then sobered. “This is such crapola. I know Jake’s really into you. Why is he being such an asshat?”
“Maybe you just surprised him,” Sara offered. “Guys don’t like surprises, unless it’s ‘Hey, honey, what do you think of this new combination power drill/video player loaded with porno I got you for your birthday?’”
Daisy laughed, but Carlie shook her head woefully. “No, I know what it is. Kissing,” she said, pointing her glass at her friends to emphasize her point, “is intimate. Jake Stone is an island. Mr. Ice-Cold Marine is in control, twenty-four/seven. Sex, but no mushy stuff. ’Cause that would imply he feels something.” She drained her wineglass again.
Daisy’s head reared back in surprise. “Wow. Since when are you so into psychology?”
Carlie snorted. “You can say it. I’m so into Jake Stone. For alla good it may do me.”
“A-and, time for bed,” Sara said, removing the wine bottle from Carlie’s reach. “You’re going to have a bad headache in the morning as it is.”
“You want me to stay the night?” Daisy asked, giving Carlie a searching look.
Carlie shook her head. “No, thanks. Gonna go cry m’self to sleep. And inna morning”—she gave them both a rebellious look—“I’m havin’ donuts. So there.”
Sara shrugged. “Some occasions call for Dark Magic. Call me when you wake up, I’ll meet you there.”
“Dang it. Can’t come, Dack and I are going to the beach tomorrow,” Daisy said. She rose and gathered the wineglasses. “May have to stop and pick up some maple bars on the way.”
“With bacon bits,” Carlie agreed. Then she pushed herself upright, wobbled only a little as she let go of the table. She’d be just fine. She would. Screw Jake Stone and the horse he rode in on.
The phone on Carlie’s desk buzzed. She picked it up without looking away from her computer screen, where she was finishing a last check of the new website design. She’d been working like a robot all morning, doing her best to keep so busy no stray thoughts could worm their way through her shield. It was working, she was in the zone, she was irritated at being interrupted.
“Yes?”
“Carlie? You have a visitor,” said Monica in a sugary voice.
Carlie’s eyes cut left, toward the front of the office. Had Monica flipped out? She was never sweet. Unable to see around the carved wooden screens and tropical plants that shielded the main office from the entryway, Carlie shrugged.
“Thanks. I’ll be right out.”
“No hurry. I’ll be glad to take care of your guest.”
Carlie wrinkled her nose in disgust. Whoever this was, they did not need a large helping of sticky sweetness dripping all over them—metaphorically, at least.
She rose and walked quickly through the desks and around the screen. There she stopped, staring. Trace stood by Monica’s desk, a paper shopping bag under one arm, smiling as she spoke vivaciously, fluttering her hands and batting her lashes. Carlie got Monica’s attraction, she really did. The guy was walking man-candy, his lean frame and blond good looks accentuated by a charcoal suit, peach shirt and green tie with peach flowers. He looked like a magazine ad for haute business attire.
Carlie wished she could see the look on Monica’s face when she learned he liked to tie women up and spank them, among other things.
He turned as Carlie appeared, and jerked his chin. “Thank you,” he said to Monica. “You’ll excuse us, won’t you?” Then he walked toward Carlie, took her arm and steered her out of the entryway into the empty area by the elevators. Carlie walked with him, too surprised to do otherwise.
When he stopped, she looked up at him. “Nice to see you?” It turned into a question.
He pushed the Down button on the elevator and grinned at her. “Brought you a cold drink. Though we could sit outside in the shade for a bit, or walk, if you’d rather.”
Carlie stepped into the elevator when he held out his hand, indicating she should precede him. This was something to do with Club 3.
“Are you going to revoke my membership?” she asked as the elevator slid downward.
Trace raised his brows. “Hadn’t planned on it. There a reason we should?”
Carlie faced the doors, her face hot. “I don’t know.”
“Don’t worry, babe. That’s not why I’m here,” he said, his dimples showing.
The doors opened on the main floor, and they walked out into the sunny atrium. The outer doors swung open as they approached, letting in a whoosh of warm, grass-and-pine-scented air.
“Walk or sit?” he asked.
She looked at his fine wool suit. “We’d better sit, or you’ll get too warm.” She led the way across the walk to a park bench in the deep shade of the evergreens. It was flanked by pots of shade plants in chartreuse, russets and darker greens and backed by a low, curved cement wall.
They sat, Carlie smoothing out the skirts of her light-gray-and-white-checked sundress. She accepted a bottle of iced tea from Trace, checking the label. Diet raspberry Snapple. “Thanks, I love this flavor.”
Trace nodded. “Noticed you drinking it at the gym after a workout.”
She raised her brows at him. “You’re observant.”
He gave her a level look. “I’m a dom.”
Right. She looked away, taking a drink of the cold, tart tea.
He leaned back, comfortable and relaxed. “Beautiful spot to work.”
“I like it. Take walks when it’s not raining. Wher
e do you work?”
“KOIN Tower. Fifteenth floor. Nice view of the bridges.”
She nodded. He said nothing further.
Finally Carlie sighed and turned to him. “I, um, appreciate the visit, but are you going to tell me why you’re really here?”
He met her gaze. His eyes were brown, she noted, his long lashes dark blond mixed with brown, like his brows. “Jake and I have been friends for a long time,” he said. “He’s one of the best men I know. Do anything for the people he cares about.”
Hurt clutched at her heart, and she put her drink on her knee, holding it tightly. It was cold through her dress and slip. “Nice for those people,” she muttered, staring at the trailing orange blossoms by her seat.
“Not real good at letting people in, though,” he went on as if she hadn’t spoken.
“I’ve noticed,” she snapped. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, Trace. I get that Jake is your friend. But I don’t…really think he considers me important. I’m just a-a sub.” And could someone just shoot her now, because she could not believe she was having this conversation on EbiTeck grounds, during her work day? “So I don’t think there’s much point to this conversation. Other than, it was really nice of you to try to do something for your friend.”
He gave her a searching look, then shrugged, smiling. Still perfectly at ease. “Worth a try. But I respect your feelings too, Carlie. You’re as important as Jake.”
She looked at him, shocked. “Why?”
“Because you’re a beautiful, well-bred, nice woman who is brave enough to trust herself to the doms at my club,” he said. “I respect you, and I like you.”
“Thank you,” she said, staring at him. “I…I like you too. What you did for Sara was really sweet.”
At the mention of her friend’s name, something flickered in his gaze. Carlie filed that away for further consideration later, when the man wasn’t busy rocking her world.
He shrugged again. “We take care of our own. Now, you gonna come back to the club?”
