by Cathryn Cade
“Yes, Jake.” Her pussy contracted with pleasure.
Satisfaction gleamed in his eyes. “That’s my good sub.”
He kissed her, still holding her hair, and Carlie kissed him back. This she could do all night. And apparently Jake was in no hurry either, as the kiss lasted a long time, hot and sweet and deep.
The club door shut behind the last happy member, and Jake sighed as he checked the lock. Shit, he was tired. He flipped his phone out and checked the time. Three a.m., no wonder. Carlie had gone home hours ago, wandering out with a last little smile for him. But his night had not been over.
He’d kept an eye on the upper floor, stepping in when a new dom got a little too enthusiastic flogging his equally new sub, whose eyes were wide with pain over his ball gag. Jake had removed the gag and stepped back, letting them finish their scene. Then he’d had a word with the dom, reminding him that he needed to make sure his sub was with him at all times and that he wasn’t just using the other man to get off. Embarrassed and upset at himself, the other man had nodded vehemently, then gone back to cuddle his sub for a while.
Jake had also introduced two couples, one new pair who wanted to watch and another who loved to be watched, and shown them to an empty room upstairs. He’d walked out frowning to himself, because he had not wanted to invite them into that room. It was the room he’d used with Carlie, both times, and some part of him wanted to keep it that way.
Outside in the hallway, he shook it off. What the hell was he doing, making his thing with Carlie into something more than it was? It was a hookup at the club, that was all. And if that left a cold hollow in his gut, he needed to man up and get the fuck over it. He did not do relationships. Wasn’t cut out for it, even if she was. Sooner or later, she’d move on, find a man who wanted to settle down.
Fuck, he needed a drink.
He sat with Dack and Trace in the office, where they talked over the night. For once, when Trace held the bottle of whiskey out, Jake held his empty glass for a refill.
“So things went well with Carlie this time,” Dack said lazily, leaning his head back on his chair.
Jake nodded, watching as he swirled the amber liquid in his glass. “Yeah. All good.”
“She’s a good woman,” Trace reflected, rocking back in his chair. “I was gonna settle down, I’d want someone like her.”
Jake grunted and took another drink. The burn settled in his stomach and spread, but the heat could not dispel the chill there. “Yeah, well, she may, but it won’t be with me.”
His friends respected his space, knew why he needed it. They knew he had a mother who’d been a neglectful whore when she was in his life, then had taken off when he was a kid. That he had Ray, who was still in his life but who’d never grown up.
Tonight, however, Trace would not let it go. “Jake, love you like a brother, but you’re so full of shit, wonder your eyes aren’t brown.”
“Oh, you mean like yours?”
Trace held up his drink, lifting one finger away to point it at Jake. “Serious. Man, you need someone just like Carlie. And a whole pack of rugrats hanging on you. Just because you had a shitty childhood, doesn’t mean you can’t be happy.”
Jake reared his head back. “Who are you, Dr. Phil? I’m happy. Got pussy, got the gym, got my own place. Gonna get a dog… I’m good.”
His friends stared at him, both with disbelief.
“What?” he demanded, his temper fraying.
Dack shook his head. “A dog? You listenin’ to yourself, Stone? Christ, you sound like a spinster with a bunch of fuckin’ cats. That’s not a life, not forever, anyway.”
“I’m thirty-five, for Chrissake, not forty.” Jake drained his glass. “And I’ll repeat, I’m not cut out for family shit.”
“The hell you’re not.” Dack was dead serious now, his heavy brows furrowed. “You can’t even see yourself, can you? You’re a guardian, Jake. Took care of your troops when you were in the service, take care of the club members, new doms and especially the subs. Reason why they ask for you, and it ain’t your looks, like Trace. It’s because they know they’re completely safe with you, no matter how far out you take ’em.”
Jake stared at him, Dack’s words reverberating in his mind. A guardian. Him?
“Nah, I just wanna be in control,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Dom, that’s all.”
Trace drained his glass and grinned at him. “You’re a natural father, that’s what. Had a good one, know what it looks like.”
“So’d I,” Dack added.
Jake sat, feeling as if he’d been hit with a mortar round as the two men who knew him best and mattered most toasted him in unison.
“Give you a couple of years, you’ll be married,” Trace said.
“One,” Dack corrected, a devil in his eye.
“Oh, fuck no,” Jake growled, reaching for the bottle. Now they’d gone too far. “Never, ever gettin’ married. Ever.”
He slugged back another shot of whiskey.
Dack rose, levering his tall frame smoothly from his chair. “Whatever, man. I gotta go. You gonna be all right?”
“Not gonna get shit-faced like someone we know.” He’d watched his father do that over a woman one too many times.
Dack grimaced. “That’s good. Think you better stay the night, though.”
“Leave your truck keys in the desk,” Trace agreed. “Grab a bed.”
Jake was still sober enough to know they were right. “Fine. Just quit talkin’, all right?”
Trace clapped him on the shoulder as he passed, and Dack put his hand on Jake’s head, rocking it from one side to the other in farewell.
“See you, man.”
“Night, Jake.”
Jake merely grunted in reply. Their footsteps faded, the front door thudded shut, and the quiet of the empty club settled around him, no sound but the soft whoosh of the air-conditioning.
He sat slouched in his chair, but part of him wanted to surge out of it, grab something and smash it. Use all the power in the muscles he devoted so much time to keeping strong and work out the turmoil of what felt uncomfortably like fear in his gut.
Couldn’t they see he was not the man they thought him? He wanted things to stay the way they were now. It was great that Carlie was his sub, but he wanted her to stay that way, not wiggle her pretty fingers into every crevice of his life. No way in hell he’d let her in so deep that she could rip him open from the inside out, leave him bleeding.
No, he was a dom. He got sex, he had control, that was enough. And he’d make sure she understood that.
Chapter Eighteen
Carlie had the best week of her summer so far. The weather was gorgeous, in the eighties but not too hot. She’d had great sex with Jake Saturday night, and the warm feeling she got whenever she thought of him said maybe, just maybe, their relationship would become something more, something deeper.
Humming to herself, Carlie worked to get her sandals on and her workout and shower gear into her gym bag. Then she rose, checked her appearance in the mirror and picked up her gym bag and purse. Since she was wearing a black-and-white flowered sun dress with a picture collar, cut-in shoulders and a flippy skirt that hit her just above the knee, she smiled at her reflection. On her feet were her favorite black sandals, T-strap platforms that showed off her new deep coral pedicure. Her hair was damp, but she was not about to spend time drying it when the moment she stepped outside she would begin to perspire in the summer heat. Damp hair would feel good.
Besides, Jake wasn’t here, so who gave a foo if she didn’t look all chic and made-up? She was clean, exercised and glowing with good health.
She walked out of the locker room, into the gym proper, nodding to one of the trainers, Phil, a short but cute redhead who had earlier asked if she needed help with a stuck weight-control lever. She’d accepted his help gratefully, as one of the lifters who clearly did not know his own strength had tightened the lever so no woman could move it. They chatted, and he let her
know he was available if she needed help with anything else. Pleased to have a friend on staff, Carlie beamed at him. He smiled back, then as someone called his name on the intercom, apologized and jogged to the front desk.
“You have a nice evening, Carlie,” he called now.
“Thanks. You too, Phil.”
She sauntered on her way with the smugness that goes with walking through a gym full of people sweating through the exercises one has already completed, until a deep voice called her name, in a peremptory way. “Carlie.”
She turned to find Jake striding out of the men’s locker room, in his customary faded, low-cut tank, long shorts and scowl. Her quick, intense pulse of pleasure at seeing him faltered when she registered his forbidding scowl. Waiting for him to catch up with her, she studied his expression dubiously.
“What’s wrong?” she asked when he reached her.
He put a hand on the small of her back, propelling her toward the front of the gym. “Nothin’s wrong. Just saying hello. Good workout?”
Workout? What workout? With his hand resting on her back, heat arcing through the thin fabric of her sundress and panties, she felt as if she’d just knocked back a few shots. She wondered what he’d do if she just leaned in and laid a big kiss on him right here.
“Baby, good workout?” he repeated. He nodded to a couple coming in. They smiled, glanced curiously at Carlie as they passed.
“Right,” she said, blinking. “It was fine.”
They were passing the front desk, where Phil stood with Brittany, looking at a computer screen. He glanced up, started to smile at Carlie. She watched him register Jake, Jake’s nearness to her, and glance back down at the computer, smile flat. Carlie walked with Jake out the front door and stopped. She could hear Seth’s sarcastic voice in her head, calling this “the guy equivalent of pissing on her leg”. She looked up at Jake, waiting.
He stayed close, his gaze traveling down over her in the sundress and back up, his hand still on her back. “You have a good evening,” he said.
“You too, honey,” she said in a sugary tone.
His gaze flicked up to hers, an arrested look in his gray eyes.
She widened her eyes at him. “Are we going steady now?”
“No, but Phil understands not to flirt with you anymore.”
“He wasn’t flirting with me, Sergeant. He was just being friendly.”
Jake leaned close. “Baby. He was flirting. Won’t happen again.”
“For goodness’ sake,” she muttered. “See you later.” She walked away. But she was smiling. He was jealous of other guys talking to her. That was a good sign, right?
“Yes, you will. And, you call me Sergeant again in that voice, I’m gonna teach you to salute properly.”
She looked over her shoulder. With a twitch of his lips, he turned and sauntered back into the gym. She watched him go, a little shiver running down her back, unsure if that had been a promise or a threat.
He was a dom—so probably both.
Jake walked back into the gym, grinning at the look on her face. Sergeant indeed. Maybe he would have her salute him while he teased her with a vibrator and a pair of nipple clamps. Just little ones, because those pink nipples of hers were real sensitive. As thinking about her tits made his cock harden, he cursed to himself.
“Time to get your head out of your pants, Stone, and back in the game.”
Back to reality. He rolled his head, loosening the tight trapezius muscles down the back of his neck and shoulders, but it did nothing to relieve the chill of uneasiness tracing his spine. What the fuck was he doing? Staking his claim and letting her know that. Dangerous territory. The area where women, even subs, began to expect promises of fidelity and a monogamous relationship. And as he’d told his friends, he was not going there.
No matter how tempting the notion of having her bounty all to himself.
As if on cue, a guitar riffed from his pocket. He palmed his phone and looked at the display. Great, best reminder ever that family life was not for the likes of him. Without pausing his stride, Jake put his phone to his ear.
“Ray. What’s up?”
“Hey, sonnie. I’m in town, that’s what’s up. Got time to have a drink with your old man?” Ray’s words were upbeat, but his tone was heavy, as if he was trying to force himself to good cheer.
“Don’t get off till nine,” Jake said.
“No problem. Meet you at Rock Bottom Brewery? I’ll be in the bar. Feel like a few cold ones.”
Might as well get it over with. “Yeah. See you about nine thirty.” He bit back the urge to remind his dad not to get shit-faced before Jake even got there, because he was not taking him home to pour him into a bed. Not anymore.
He walked back to the weights, his mood dark again. This was his life, and he’d best remember that. No matter who they were, family or sweet subs with tits and ass that would not quit, they came with chains that could wrap both ways and pull a man down to where he could barely breathe, suffocated in their problems.
Then he shook off his dark mood. He’d let his dad know he was not crashing at Jake’s place. He’d make sure Carlie knew her place in his life too.
He was in control.
Carlie met Daisy and Sara for a walk Saturday morning at Tom McCall Park in downtown Portland. The park was one of Carlie’s favorite places. She loved the combination of sophisticated city buildings towering over the long park with its fountains and low cement esplanade overlooking the Willamette River.
She parked in a SmartPark and walked along SW Salmon to the fountain. Against the backdrop of the white spray arcing in the morning sun, Sara stood, stretching gracefully, on one foot, the other held up behind her, and her free arm over her head. Daisy was giggling as she tried her best to pull her foot up behind her without losing her balance. The park was busy as always on summer mornings, cyclists passing joggers, walkers and people sitting on benches, blankets and the grass. Beyond them, the river sparkled green in the sunlight.
“You’re smiley this morning,” Sara said without breaking her pose.
“Yeah,” Carlie said. “Look.” She grasped the sides of her shorts at her hips and pulled them out.
“Wow, loose,” Daisy said, giving up on the stretch to straighten. “Nice.”
“Yay, you,” Sara said, flashing a bright smile. “You look great. Glowing with health.”
Daisy waggled her brows in the shadow of her pink baseball cap. “Although that could be caused by Jake.”
Carlie shrugged coyly, and her friends laughed. She joined in. “Come on, let’s go.”
They crossed the lawn to the path along the riverfront, dodging a pair of cyclists who showed no inclination to slow for them. Portland was a bike-friendly city, which at times could be a bit scary for pedestrians.
The trio headed north along the river, pacing a gleaming white leisure boat cruising along, the passengers pointing at the tall buildings.
“So how is Jake?” Sara asked.
Carlie smiled; she couldn’t help it. “He’s…good. Scary, but good.”
“Scary?” Sara looked concerned now, which Carlie understood because Jake was big and didn’t smile a lot.
Carlie shook her head quickly. “I don’t mean, um, in a bad way. He’s never threatening physically. He just—pushes me.”
Daisy nodded, with a little smile that said she did know. “To try new things?”
Carlie blew out a breath. “And then talk about them. Unnerving, you know?”
“Wow,” Sara breathed. “Must be intense. You sound all hot and bothered just talking about it. About him.”
“Yeah.” She was hot and bothered, all right. Turned on and wearing a sappy smile on her face, but she didn’t care. Just thinking about Jake did that.
“So,” Daisy said, poking Carlie with her elbow. “Have you worn that outfit for him yet? The red one? You’ll look great in it, with your new, improved figure.”
They detoured around a slow-moving family with a toddler pu
shing her stroller. “No.” Carlie shook her head and sped up, pouring her agitation into her stride. “I don’t know if I can pull that off. The thought of walking into the club in slut wear—yikes.”
“Actually,” Daisy said, “It’s a turn-on.”
Her friends looked at her and then each other and shook their heads. “After your fears about your body, and your breasts. Never did I think you would turn out to be an exhibitionist,” Sara said.
Daisy punched the air with her fists as she walked, swinging her hips. “Hey, I am out and proud, because Dack wants me that way. And I’ll take that man any way I can get him.”
“But you did it for yourself too,” Carlie said. She was breathing hard as they neared the Morrison St. Bridge. “You want to cross the river, do the bridges?”
“No, I’m fine just staying on this side,” Sara said. Daisy nodded.
“Me too. And you’re right, I did do it for myself. That’s why I think you should too. And Jake will love it, trust me.”
“I don’t know.” Carlie shook her head, shivering a little as they passed into the cool shade under the bridge. “He said something about liking to be the only one to unwrap the package.”
Her friends laughed, but Daisy persisted. “All you’re doing is putting exciting new wrap on the package. C’mon, Car. Tonight is leather night, and I’m wearing my new bustier. We’ll walk in together and knock their boots off.”
“Well, I did spend a lot of money on that outfit,” Carlie said. She hated that. She was not one to shop just for the thrill of the hunt. If she bought it, she either returned it or wore it.
“And guaranteed there will be plenty of others dressed more outrageously than you.” As they emerged into the sunshine again, Daisy did a cheerleader leap. “Woo-hoo! This is gonna rock, girlfriend.”
“Okay, that’s it,” Sara said, the words bursting out of her in a huff. “I am coming back to the club. You two are having all the fun without me.”
“And the sex,” Daisy added and burst out laughing.
