by Nikki Sloane
“No, not really.” Clay couldn’t have sounded more honest if he’d tried. He fidgeted, suddenly uncomfortable, and the words spilled from him. “She wanted more. Needed things I couldn’t give her.” I’d never seen him truly look sad until this moment, and it was heartbreaking. “I was upfront from the very beginning,” he said, “but she thought she could change my mind. I cared for her a lot, but I wasn’t going to fall in love, and when that didn’t happen, she kind of lost it.”
Ice crept down over my body, freezing me in place. “What happened?”
“I told her it was over, but she refused to accept it.” His expression was grave. “She wouldn’t respect my boundaries, so last year I sold my place and moved to the other side of the city where it’s pretty unlikely she’s going to find me.”
“Holy shit,” I breathed.
He didn’t just like his privacy—he needed it.
“Believe me when I tell you, when you showed up naked in my study,” he admitted, “it nearly killed me. It’d been more than a year since I’d wanted to play with anyone. One look at you and I threw every fucking plan I had out the window.”
I sagged against the hallway wall. It was incredibly powerful that he was opening up to me, and that I’d been the first person he was willing to play with in such a long time, after a relationship that hadn’t ended well.
My voice fell to a hush. “I’m glad. I really liked it.”
“Me too.” He straightened, blinking back the fog I seemed to create in his head. “I’m sorry if I’m slow to share things. I ignored my instincts last time and ended up causing her a lot of pain.”
I understood how he meant it. He got off on pain, but not the emotional kind, and I suspected he’d left himself out of the equation. He’d cared about his former partner, and seeing her suffer had hurt him too, even if he didn’t admit it.
“It’s okay.” I hoped he could see my honesty. “I meant what I said before, so you don’t have anything to worry about. I’m not going to fall for you, and . . . I can prove it.”
“What?”
He’d shared with me, so it only seemed fair. I brushed my hair back out of my eyes and gave him a serious look. “I’ve dated a lot of guys, and it always ends the same. I’m not built to go the distance.” My tone dipped low, pulled down with shame. “This is going to sound awful, but the harder a guy falls for me? The faster I want out.”
Clay stared at me with disbelief.
“My final year in college,” I added, “I was with this guy for a year. My longest relationship by a mile, and it’s possible I only stayed with him so long to see if I could. I thought maybe—I don’t know—the feeling would go away.”
I was a magnet. Desire pulled me in, but then the power of it flipped me over, turned everything upside-down. Suddenly, the thing I’d been attracted to repelled me with the same amount of force.
Tension held my shoulders tight as I recalled the memory. “I didn’t realize while I was fighting the urge to leave, he had no idea, and was falling deeper.” I hesitated. “He bought an engagement ring.”
His eyes widened with alarm. “Uh-oh.”
“Yeah.” I swallowed a breath. “Like your partner, this guy didn’t handle the breakup well.” There had been tears, and angry words hurled at me, followed by apologies and more tears. He’d been as sure of his love as I was of my desire to bolt. “He tried all sorts of ridiculous things to get me to stay or win me back. I mean, he wrote letters to my parents. Fucking letters. Who does that?”
Sympathy painted his expression, but he stayed silent as he listened.
I put my hand on my hip and lifted my chest, standing tall. “I’m not going to fall in love with you, Clay. The arrangement we have works just fine for me.” I made a face. “Well, except I’m here and you’re down in Florida.”
“I agree, but at least it’s temporary,” he said. “In the meantime, I have an idea.”
My interest piqued. “Oh?”
“How would you feel about trying some long-distance play?”
I didn’t know what exactly that entailed. “Like, web cam sex?”
His smile was sly. “Something like that, yeah.”
I grinned. He liked watching and I had no problem being watched. “I’d be into that.”
“Good,” he said. “Maybe we can try that next time.”
I acted like it was an innocent question. “How about now?”
He laughed and shook his head. “No. I want to plan it first.”
Shit, the idea of that turned me on so much.
Somehow, I survived the weekend without burning out the motor in my vibrator. Every quiet moment alone, my thoughts would drift back to my night with Clay and the stranger, and then I had no choice but to seek relief from my battery-operated friend.
I’d just finished sorting Clay’s mail with him when his expression turned serious. “Do you have plans tonight?”
My pulse jumped. Had he finished planning it out? Were we going to play? “It’s just a regular ol’ Tuesday for me. Why?”
“It’s unfair,” Clay said.
“What’s that?”
“That it took a year for me to discover you, and now that I have, I’m stuck five hundred miles away.”
Whoa.
For a guy who wasn’t interested in feelings, that had sounded awfully romantic. It sent tingles up my spine, and the sensation was alarming. He wasn’t supposed to say stuff like that.
And I wasn’t supposed to like it, either.
“But I thought,” he continued, “we could try something to tide us over until I’m back. Are you up for that?”
I shot him a sexy smile. “What’d you have in mind?”
Tonight, he’d FaceTimed me through his laptop, so it was strange when he picked up his phone and thumbed something out on it. Message sent, he set down his phone and turned his attention back to me.
Mischief lurked in his eyes, but he hadn’t answered my question. When I tilted my head expectantly, he lifted a finger, signaling me to wait, to give him a minute—
The doorbell chimed, and its loud two-toned gong startled me.
He wasn’t surprised. Instead, he smiled like the Cheshire Cat and used that same finger to point to the door. “Answer it.”
What on earth?
I picked up my phone, carrying it with me as I left the living room and strode into the entryway. It was after eight p.m. and the evening sunlight was fading fast, plus the side windows surrounding Clay’s front door were beveled. It obscured the large figure on the porch.
I suspected—or hoped—who I’d find waiting for me, and when I pulled open the door, I wasn’t disappointed.
The stranger from the club lifted his gaze to meet mine and flashed his dazzling smile.
TEN
Breath hung awkwardly in my lungs at the sight of this sexy stranger, while the rest of my body lit up. He wore dark jeans and a stone-gray button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled back to his elbows, which gave me all the forearm porn I could ask for.
“Hi,” he said in his deep voice before his gaze shifted to the phone in my hand. His posture stiffened like a person interviewing for a job and wanting to make a good impression.
It came from me breathlessly. “Hi.”
“I thought the three of us,” Clay said on screen, “could have a conversation. Do you want to invite him in?”
It was at that moment I realized I’d been gripping the door handle so hard, my hand ached. I stepped back, making room. “Come in.”
The man crossed the threshold, keeping a polite, cordial distance. While his gaze remained on me, I sensed he was completely aware of the other man, even if Clay wasn’t physically in the room. I closed the door behind the man, then looked at Clay for what was going to happen next.
“This is Mr. E,” he said.
Seriously? I grimaced at the fake name. “Mystery?”
“No.” Clay’s eyebrow shot up, and h
e weighted each syllable. “Mister. E. I’ve already told him to call you L.”
Had Mr. E not understood like I had? Did he think my name was Elle? Either way, it didn’t matter. I was pleased to have at least a sliver of information about him, even if it was only an initial.
Clay’s tone was friendly and not bossy. “Go sit together on the couch, and I can explain what Mr. E is doing here.”
Breath was held tightly in my lungs as I walked toward the living room and E trailed behind me. Had he been in Clay’s house before? It didn’t seem like it. When I sat down and rested the phone in my lap, he surveyed the room like everything was unfamiliar.
Except for me, which was ironic. Yeah, we’d had sex, but we barely knew a thing about each other. Not even names.
His gaze zeroed in on Noir, who bolted the moment she realized there was a stranger in the house. His reaction was odd. Was he amused? Or was he not a cat person?
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
He was amused, or at least he found my question funny, because a smile tilted his lips. “I didn’t expect him to own a cat.”
I was going to explain she was our cat, but Clay cleared his throat in a way that demanded our attention, and E’s smile drained away. The large man sat down beside me on the couch and kept a respectful space, as if he weren’t allowed any closer.
“Since the three of us have already played together,” Clay announced, “I asked Mr. E if he’d be interested in a temporary arrangement.” There was a gravity to his voice, hinting this was a big deal. “He said yes.”
I swallowed thickly. “What kind of arrangement?”
“Until I’m back, he’ll be me.”
“What?”
“I’ll still control the scene, but it’ll be remotely for now. He’s agreed to fulfill the physical part for me.”
I nearly dropped the phone. Every muscle inside corded like a tightly twisted rope as I struggled to process what he’d said. “Like . . . he’ll be your stand-in?”
The sinful look in Clay’s eyes was seriously hot. “Yes. You’ll think of him as an extension of me. He’s another way for us to play together.”
I focused on the man sitting beside me and how he held himself perfectly still. His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, but otherwise, there was no way to tell what he was thinking or if he was nervous. His expression rang of forced emptiness.
I tried to understand why Mr. E agreed to this. “You’ll take directions from Clay?”
“There are rules,” my partner interrupted. “I’d prefer if you only spoke to me, and not with each other.”
I stilled. “Why?”
He put a finger on the bridge of his glasses and pushed them up. “Because I think it’ll be easier for you to imagine it’s me.” He wasn’t sure if he should say the next part but decided to go for it. “No personal information, which is why you have initials instead of names. This is temporary, and I’d like to minimize your connection to each other. That way, when it’s over, it’s not difficult for anyone.”
I didn’t miss the way his eyes shifted E’s direction, like he faintly worried the man he’d invited into his house might get attached to me.
“So, I can’t talk to him,” I said with mixed feelings, and my tone turned dubious. “Do I call him by your name?”
“No. I’ll be onscreen, so if you have a question or need something, just ask it.”
I mashed my lips together as I considered this completely bananas idea. I saw the appeal of it for Clay because he enjoyed watching, and I did see the appeal for E, because he’d get to carry out all of Clay’s plans.
This arrangement was all kinds of attractive to me. We’d make lemonade out of the lemon Clay’s job had handed to us.
I took a breath. “What are the other rules?”
“You can’t see him if you’re not seeing me.”
Meaning if Clay wasn’t on video, E wasn’t allowed to be with me.
“I trust Mr. E,” he added. “You should feel comfortable and safe with him, so don’t think this rule has anything to do with that. It’s only because he’s my surrogate. He’ll act as I would if I were physically there.”
I nodded slowly. “I understand.”
“Also,” his expression was intensely serious, “no kissing on the mouth.”
God, that sent the strangest thrill through me. Surely, this rule was just meant to support the idea of no personal connections between Mr. E and me, but there was a possessive undertone to it. Did Clay want something only for himself? That he’d be the only man allowed to press his lips to mine?
Once again, it felt like he was being unintentionally romantic.
“Do you have any questions?”
I probably did, but I couldn’t think of any, except for one. It beat loudly in my brain like a racing heart, picking up momentum as it went. My voice was tight, choked with need. “When do we start?”
My question gave the men so much pleasure, I could taste it. I felt it in shimmers across my skin, prickling up my spine, and blood rushed warmly to my face.
Clay’s word was an order for both of us. “Now.”
And as soon as the command had been given, E snatched up the handle to his bag, was up on his feet beside the couch, and had his hand extended to me in invitation. Hopefully, he didn’t see the subtle tremble of mine as I set my hand in his. His grasp was gentle but firm as he pulled me up.
I couldn’t imagine what I looked like to him as I stared up wide-eyed, clutching both my phone and his hand. This couldn’t be real. It was too much like a perfect fantasy to be happening.
Yet, it was.
Clay didn’t tell his stand-in where to lead me, but I suspected it was because he’d done it earlier. I tried not to rush as we made our way toward the basement door. Every step we descended pumped more desire inside me, and by the time we reached the bottom of the stairs and I set my gaze on the St. Andrew’s cross, I was ready to burst.
E surveyed the room, and when his focus landed on the gorgeous piece of furniture, his let go of me and stepped forward to admire it better. I lifted the phone and turned it so Clay could see then turned it back to face me.
“I’d forgotten how beautiful it is,” I said softly.
Clay’s Adam’s apple bobbed in a thick swallow and his shoulders lifted. My compliment had caught him off-guard and he struggled not to look affected. “Thank you.” His tone evened out. “Hand the phone to him. I’d like everything off, please.”
Him telling me what to do was sexy, but the way he did? Fuck, it was seriously hot. His please was so proper and polite, making it sound like I was doing him a favor, when as far as I was concerned, it was the other way around.
When I held my phone out to E, he set his bag on the nearby workbench and took it, tapping the screen to reverse the camera. And then both men waited to watch me undress, making the air in the room go thin.
Clay had seen me nude, but the man in front of me hadn’t, and although his focus was pointed down at the screen he held out in front of himself, I was acutely aware of how I had his attention.
My black tank top went first, my dark brown hair swishing as it was pulled off, revealing my black bralette. I cast my shirt aside and gave the sexiest smirk I could manage, and then my fingers went to the button of my jean cutoffs. I bent at the waist, keeping my gaze locked onto the phone while I pushed my shorts down my legs. It exposed my green panties trimmed with black lace, and thank fuck I’d decided to change into them before coming over to Clay’s tonight. They were one of the sexiest pairs I owned.
I wasn’t shy, and I didn’t waste time teasing the men. The faster I got naked, the quicker E could strap me to the St. Andrew’s cross and carry out Clay’s orders. I crossed my arms, gripped the bottom of my bralette, and lifted, freeing myself from the lace until my breasts tumbled into view.
There was a joint deep breath from the men, almost as if they were the same person. Wasn’t I supposed
to think of them like that? The muscle along E’s strong jaw flexed, and his gaze flicked to mine. He wasn’t allowed to speak, but he didn’t have to say anything to communicate. He liked how I looked.
When I hooked my fingers into the waistband of my underwear, Clay’s voice was abrupt. “Wait,” he said. “I like those. Leave them on.”
“Okay.” I withdrew, letting my hands hang at my sides, and turned my head toward the cross. But Clay’s instructions weren’t to step up to it. They weren’t even for me at all.
“There’s a mount for the phone on the shelf,” he said to E.
The phone screen was tapped, turning the camera around again, and I stood motionless as E found the stand, clipped my phone into it, and positioned the camera so I could see Clay. The stand rested on the workbench, and now that his hands were free, E turned his attention to his bag.
The zipper was pulled in an unhurried, steady stoke, mirroring the slow reveal when I’d undressed, and a fist reached inside my chest at the same time E reached inside the bag. A coil of black rope was pulled from inside, and the invisible fist tightened.
Clay’s question was echoed in E’s eyes. “Yes?”
Like I’d been with the scale ruler, I should have been nervous, but I wasn’t. I only had eagerness to see how he’d use it, and so I nodded slowly.
“Good. Hold your hands out in front of you.”
I did, and when E began his approach, I wasn’t sure where to look. Was I supposed to keep my eyes on Clay? It was impossible because he was on a tiny screen resting on the workbench, and E was right in front of me, seeming larger than life.
He dropped one end of the long rope, and the coil unfurled, landing with a quiet thud in a pile at my feet. There was a pause, only for a second, as if he were giving me a chance to change my mind . . . or maybe he was deciding to truly commit to whatever he was about to do. I stared up at him, searching his face, but his gaze fell to my wrists and the end of black rope stretched in his hands.
My arms were bent so my elbows were at my sides, and I laced my fingers together. Was this what he’d been waiting for?
He wound the rope around my wrists several times before knotting the end off, and then began feeding it between my bound wrists in a figure eight pattern. It wasn’t tight, but snug and inescapable, and my pulse quickened. And once he’d repeated threading it between my wrists enough times, he guided the rope up to my shoulder.
