“Well! Guess by the look on your face that you approve of our newest service Dom!” Steve walked up to the bar and took a stool. Even in the dim lighting, Steve could see Laura’s face turn three shades of red.
“Cabrizzi? Are you kidding?” she asked, incredulous. “You can’t be serious!”
“Look at him, Laura. Tell me you don’t want that,” Steve grinned.
“No. I don’t.” Do I?
“Liar. Have a fun evening. I’ll check on you in a bit.” Steve walked away and left Laura to stew.
“Hey, can I get a diet soda?” Vic asked as he leaned backward against the bar. Laura hadn’t seen him come up, and she jumped about a foot. “Damn, woman, I just want a drink. I’m not gonna slap you or anything. Calm down,” he snapped, not even cracking a smile.
“Don’t you want your usual beer?” she asked, surprised that he’d asked for a soft drink.
“Nope. Against the rules.”
“Whose rules?” Laura asked.
“Mine.” She sat the drink in front of him and he picked up the glass. She couldn’t help but notice how elegant his hands were, long, strong fingers with just the lightest dusting of dark hair across them. Looking at them made her feel odd. “Can’t drink alcohol and keep my wits about me with a sub.”
“You’re serious about this, aren’t you?” Laura asked, her mouth hanging open.
The new Vic Cabrizzi looked into her eyes and asked, “And what would make you think I’m not?” The low growl in his voice made her insides quiver, and she had to look away. “That’s exactly what I thought.” He finished the drink and smacked the glass onto the bar, then walked away. What the hell?, Laura thought. She looked down at her hands – they were visibly shaking.
Several of the unattached women in the club spent most of the evening talking to Vic, but most of them wanted to be collared by a Dom – right that minute. And Vic was not interested in that at all. They could flirt all they wanted, but it got them nowhere. He made it clear: He was a service Dom, and he’d be glad to meet their needs, but that was it.
“Oh my god! He’s so gorgeous!” one woman was gushing as she and another woman walked up to the bar. “Can I have a Bud Light?” she asked Laura, who pulled it and sat it down in front of her.
“I’d take him on in a New York minute,” her friend said. “I needed a sign that said ‘slippery when wet’ just standing there talking to him!” Laura wanted to hurl.
“I want to climb up there and let him spank me good, but he’s so damn big, he’s kinda scary,” the first one said. Ha! Wish he could hear that!, Laura thought.
But that left her wondering why she wanted him to fail. He’d obviously worked hard to train with Alex. She should be happy for him, that he was more confident and looked better, happier, than she’d ever seen him. Why did seeing him looking and feeling good make her feel so bad? Maybe I’m the bitch that José said I am.
Laura felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and she pulled it out to see an unfamiliar number on the screen. She’d advertised to try to find a roommate, and she hoped that someone was responding. When she answered the call, a male voice said something, but the club was too loud. “Hang on just a minute, please. I can’t hear you.” She looked around – no Steve. “Hey, Vic!” she yelled. Vic broke away from a beautiful, bare-breasted brunette and came over to the bar. “Hey, I’ve got a phone call. Can you watch the bar for just a minute?”
“Yeah, but just a minute. Get your ass right on back here,” he said. He’d never talked to her like that before, and she was taken aback, but she didn’t have time to worry about that.
Jetting out the side door behind the bar, she put the phone back up to her ear. “Yeah, sorry about that. Can I help you? Are you calling about the ad for a roommate.”
“No.” Something about the voice made her feel odd. “Laura? Laura Billings?” Her hands went cold and a buzzing started in her ears. “Billings?”
“Who the hell is this?” she growled into the phone.
“Laura, I’m so sorry to call you and drag all of this up. This is Brewster. Please don’t hang up on me.”
“DON’T CALL ME AGAIN!” Laura screamed into the phone, then hit END and dropped the phone on the ground. It promptly rang again; same number.
She stared at the phone. Everything was coming at her in a rush, and the earth seemed to tilt. She hit ACCEPT and asked through gritted teeth, “What the hell do you want?”
“Laura, please, don’t hang up. I need to talk to you. I want to make this right; we all do. Well, almost all of us. I hear a lot of noise in the background. Can I call you later? Or tomorrow? It’s important.”
“I can’t believe you’d have the nerve to call me. How did you find me?” she was whispering, feeling so weak that she could barely speak.
“Billings, I know it’s hard to believe, but I want to make this right. It’s eaten at me for years, ruined my life and I’m betting yours too, and it’s time to man up. Please. Let me do this, me and the others. Please?”
Laura’s head was spinning and she felt like she was going to throw up. It was a little late for an apology, but it was more than she’d gotten over the last sixteen years, sixteen years of sheer hell. “Call me tomorrow. Ten o’clock tomorrow morning. That’s Eastern Daylight Time.”
“Okay. Ten o’clock tomorrow morning. Will do.” The phone went dead. Laura stood staring at the phone, her hands trembling so violently that she could barely hold it. After a minute or two, she walked back through the side door and up to the bar.
“Where the hell were you?” Vic barked. Then he got a good look at her face. “God, Laura, what’s wrong?” She stared at the bar, and Vic grabbed her arms and spun her to look at him. “Talk to me. What is it?”
Laura shook his hands off. “Don’t touch me. Leave me alone. Nothing’s wrong.” She grabbed the towel and started wiping.
She heard Vic say, “That’s a lie. I don’t believe it for a minute. And when you decide you need someone to talk to about whatever just happened, find me. I can’t speak for anyone else, but you can always trust me. I’d never hurt you, not in a million years.” Laura turned to apologize to him for the way she’d talked to him, but he was gone.
Vic walked into the men’s locker room and leaned against the wall. He knew damn well something had happened, but the ice princess wasn’t going to tell him what or take any help from anyone. And he was done with trying to get someone who didn’t want to be around him to open up to him. That was a dead-end street, and he’d walked down too many of them already.
Here’s a sneak peek at
Renovating a Heart,
Book 3 in the
Love Under Construction series:
José Flores couldn’t believe his eyes when he looked up from the computer screen and through the office window on Thursday night – it was Kelly Markham walking through the door at Eden’s Gate!
“Hey lady! How are you?” he smiled at her.
“I’m good! It’s great to see you, José. You work here too?”
“Yeah, in the evenings. Gotta make a few extra bucks. You coming to visit tonight?”
Kelly nodded. “Steve invited me. Is he here?” She glanced around nervously. The entry looked kind of plain and uninteresting. She wondered what the inside of the club would look like.
A door beside the little office opened and Steve popped out almost like he’d been waiting there for her. “Kelly! Glad you came! Come on in and let me show you around.”
When Kelly stepped through the door, her heart sang and she felt warm all over.
She was home.
This was the place she’d been looking for. Everything was posh and well-appointed. The marble-topped bar with its multi-colored pendant lights gleamed, the wood warm and glowing. She recognized the guy manning the bar – Doug Benton, one of Steve’s security employees – and waved to him. He waved back. God, he’s cute!, she thought.
“We encourage fetwear here. I see you brought a bag,” Steve said to
her as he led her through the big commons area. Kelly had never seen such a beautiful performance area for scenes. It was well lit and spacious, and there were nice groupings of expensive leather furniture for conversing and relaxing. “Come on back. There’s a locker room where you’re welcome to change if you want.” The look that had passed over Kelly’s face hadn’t been lost on Steve; pure bliss, like she’d walked straight into heaven, and he could tell she appreciated all the work he’d put into the place. “I’ll wait out here for you and finish showing you around when you come out.”
Steve leaned against the wall, wondering what she’d be wearing. He hoped it was something appropriately scanty. There were already at least a dozen bare-breasted subs walking around out in the large room, but he didn’t dare dream that she’d come out like that.
He didn’t have to. When Kelly walked out of the locker room, she was wearing a lacy thong and a matching flounce-skirted garter belt, its satin resplendently iridescent in pinks, fuchsias, yellows, and golds, with white lace trim and a pair of white fishnet stockings attached to the gold-plated clips. On her feet were a pair of peep-toed, white patent pumps with gold, five-inch heels, and her legs were deliciously curvy. And all of that was from the waist down. From the waist up . . .
Nothing.
A lump formed in Steve’s throat. This woman was barely Nikki’s height, maybe not even that, and her breasts had to be a G-cup. They were huge. And she had the hardest nipples he’d ever seen, no doubt about it. It was work to keep his hands to himself, and he almost failed at least twice just standing there.
“Do I look okay?” she asked shyly.
“Uh, yeah, you look, well, amazing,” he stammered and turned pink. Good god, McCoy, pull it together!, his brain screamed.
“Thanks. It feels funny . . .” She put her hand to her neck. “This is the first time I’ve ever been in a club without a collar.” At the thought of her in a collar his knees went weak, and her face was so sad that he was tempted to pull her to him and hug her.
“I’m so sorry, Kelly. If I can do anything . . .”
She smiled. “Just show me around. Maybe I can at least have a little fun.”
“Oh, you can absolutely do that around here!” He took her down the hallway beyond the locker room to show her the private rooms, then took her down to see the dungeon in the basement.
When they came back upstairs, Kelly smiled up at Steve again. “Thanks for showing me around. I really appreciate being able to come here tonight. I can’t afford a membership, but . . .”
“You can have one if you want it. I know your situation, and it’s my pleasure.” It’s most definitely my pleasure, he sang to himself.
“No, I couldn’t let you do that.”
“I insist. Go on out there and have a good time. Tell Doug I said to give you a drink on the house. I’ll be out again in a little while to check on you.” He wasn’t sure why he did what he did, but he leaned down and gave her a timid little peck on the forehead. When he looked down into her face, there was a glow about her that surprised him.
“Thanks. See you in a bit,” she called over her shoulder and sashayed out into the big room. That man is gorgeous. I wonder if he’d . . . nah. He wouldn’t be interested in me, especially if he knew everything, she told herself as she headed to the bar for that drink.
Steve slammed the door to his office closed and locked it. He pulled a bottle of lube out of the desk drawer, dropped down into his chair, unzipped his leathers, and slicked up his stiffened dick. No need to wait – he was already so hard that he was aching. Something about Kelly . . .He stroked his cock religiously, taking his time, enjoying thinking about those beautiful nipples and that tiny waist. He wished she hadn’t had the thong and garter belt on – he would’ve loved to get a glimpse of that pussy. If it was anything like the rest of her, well, that would be one fine cunt.
Before he could even take a deep breath, he came with a groan and shot a stream of cum out that would’ve put most men to shame. It had been a while since a woman had that effect on him, but he liked it. He was between subs, and he wondered . . . nah, she probably wouldn’t be interested in him. But he certainly planned to find out.
Here’s a sneak peek at
Planning an Addition,
Book 4 in the
Love Under Construction series:
“Can we just pull over here?” Molly whined on the way back from the drugstore.
“No! Let’s at least do this right, okay?” Peyton was having a hard time driving. He couldn’t concentrate. There was a woman in the front seat beside him who was intent on fucking him as soon as she could, and that made her more than a little distracting. “I’d like to at least get back to your bed, if that’s okay.”
Molly sighed. “Okay. How slow are you going?” she asked, trying to see the speedometer.
“I’m doing five miles an hour over the speed limit already! I think you’ll live!” he laughed.
“I dunno. There are parts of me that are on fire right now.” She giggled.
“Good. I’ve got the hose to put them out.” That made her laugh right out loud.
Peyton couldn’t believe his eyes. They walked in the front door and she had her dress unzipped and over her head in a split second. She kicked off her heels as they walked down the hallway and by the time they got to the bedroom, she was in nothing but her bra and panties. Peyton had already started unbuttoning his shirt, and when they got to the bedroom, he pulled it off and dropped it on the floor.
Molly gasped. His chest was broad and smooth, with a generous blanket of blond, curly hair across his pecs and trailing down the center of his torso. She wanted to see where that happy trail ended, oh yes she did. He was built exactly as she’d suspected – broad, thick, powerful shoulders, huge biceps, and it all tapered to a narrow waist. “Get those pants off,” she barked. “I want to see if your ass is as fine as the rest of you.”
Peyton chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Yes, ma’am. I hope you’re not disappointed.” Then he realized he didn’t have his crutches. What in the hell was he going to do? He started to panic. He wasn’t prepared. He didn’t have what he needed to get by. What now? She was going to see him as a cripple, as an incomplete excuse for a man.
It took Molly about three seconds to pick up on the fact that something was going on in his head. “What’s wrong? Hey,” she said, her fingers lifting his chin so his gaze went from the floor to her. “What’s going on in there?” she smiled, her fingers grazing his temples.
“This was a bad idea.” He froze.
“Why?” She watched his face. “Baby, what’s wrong? What changed?”
“Molly, I . . .” He didn’t know what to say. “I don’t have my crutches.” There. She’d just get dressed and show him out and the humiliation would be over.
She disappeared and came back in a couple of minutes with a pair of aluminum crutches. “Todd broke his leg a few years back in a skiing accident. I kept these in his closet. I didn’t know why until just now.” She handed them to Peyton as he sat there on the edge of the bed. “They may not be adjusted correctly for you, but they’ll work, won’t they?”
For the first time in years, Peyton fought back tears. She really didn’t care that his leg was gone. It didn’t matter to her. This was really happening. A woman wanted him, and wanted him badly enough to forget that he wasn’t whole. “Yeah, they’ll work,” he managed to whisper. When he’d gotten the words out, Molly moved to stand between his knees and pulled his face into her chest.
“So, Peyton Stokes, get those damn pants off.” She reached down and undid his belt, then unbuttoned and unzipped his slacks.
Peyton slipped his slacks off and let them fall to the floor. Once they were off, he worked his below-the-knee prosthesis off and put it to the side. He waited. What would she say?
Before he could utter a sound, Molly pushed him back onto the bed and climbed on top of him. Her dark hair fell around her face and down into his, and she leaned down and
kissed him, her lips warm and tender against his, a sensation he hadn’t known in years. A minute later, he wrapped his arms around her waist and rolled her until he was on top of her. He knew she could feel his erection, hard as steel, pressed against her mons and into the softness of her belly. “Why, Mr. Stokes, I think you’re looking forward to something!”
Peyton started to relax. She really was okay with it, with him, and she still wanted him, even though she’d watched him remove his hardware. He wanted to enjoy this, to enjoy her, and see her enjoy him. “I am, Ms. Walters. I’m looking forward to this immensely.” He slid his hands under her torso and unsnapped her bra with one hand. “Let’s get rid of this, shall we?” As he kissed her again, he drew the bra off and threw it in the floor, then pressed himself upward on his palms to look down at her.
Her breasts were beautiful. He found the way they sagged ever-so-slightly to be beyond erotic, a primitive, lovely thing. Molly’s skin wasn’t dark, just a light to medium shade, and her large areolas were a deep, rosy pink, with big, hard nipples puckered tight. It had been so long since he’d touched a woman’s breasts that he didn’t know if he could remember what to do with them. But when he leaned downward and drew a nipple into his mouth, it all came back in a rush. And he was pretty sure if it hadn’t, the moan she turned loose with would’ve reminded him quite nicely.
Something inside Peyton Stokes came back to life with that one moan. He felt alive, strong, powerful. He felt like a man, the man he’d been before that bomb blast had jerked his dreams out from under him, not the shell of one he’d seemed to be for the past too many years. All of the heat and lust rushed into his system in a flood, and he heard himself growl, “Take those panties off. I want to see what I’m about to get myself into, baby. Literally.”