Ale’s reappearance at her elbow caught her off guard. She tore her gaze away from Gabe, feeling vaguely guilty, as if Ale had caught her flirting with another man. Which was ridiculous because, one, she was doing no such thing, and two, Ale wasn’t her boyfriend. Gabe wasn’t “another man.” Nobody was anything to anyone here except friend or kinky sex partner, and everyone involved was on board with her game plan.

Stop reading stuff into everything, girl. You’re gonna get yourself in trouble, for sure.

She didn’t miss the measured stare Ale directed at Gabe, but when he didn’t say anything, she assumed there was nothing to worry about. Ale knew who Gabe was, because she’d told him about her plan to bring along a friend when they’d been texting and arranging to meet up.

“We’re in luck. Lassitude is free. Come.” He took her hand and maneuvered her through the growing crowd standing around and sitting on the sofas in front of the fireplace. Eyes tracked them as they passed, gazes that were curious, or even envious.

She couldn’t blame them. Every time she looked at Ale, she wanted to wrap her hands around his arms and hang on tight.

Except that’s not how it would work. He’d tell you to keep your hands at your sides and stay still, like a good girl, while he put his hands on you.

And that was the part that made her shiver.

Inside Lassitude, she barely noticed the details of the room at first. But when Ale turned his back on her to straighten the curtain in the open doorway—making sure it was pulled all the way across, leaving no gaps, a politeness she appreciated—she took a moment to look around.

Scarred hardwood floor. A slightly battered leather couch stretched along one wall, a surprisingly competent oil painting of a man bound by knotty crimson ropes hanging above it. One of those X-shaped crosses bolted to the floor stood in front of the wall perpendicular to the couch. As if someone might need seating for spectators. Tarnished silver wall sconces glowed with warm light, casting complicated shadows on two of the roughly stuccoed walls.

Callie drifted toward the nearest wall, eyeing the peaks and valleys of the swirled plaster and flinching. She heard Ale’s approach, smelled the soap and musk scent of him on a breath that raised goose bumps on all of her exposed skin, and turned her face to look at him.

“Ouch,” she said. At Ale’s raised eyebrow, she elaborated, “That looks kind of poky for all the pressing up against the wall stuff you guys do.”

“Not everyone does that, although yes, it’s a personal favorite.” One corner of his mouth twitched. “And for some people, the pokiness is part of the appeal.”

“Ouch.” Nope. Definitely not a pain slut. But at the thought, the memory of his finger’s pinching her nipple until it ached zinged through her like an electrical surge, and Callie was left confused and unsure. Again.

The thought alone had the tips of her breasts tightening under her shirt.

“One thing at a time perhaps,” Ale said, gesturing her toward him.

As she approached, Callie was hyperaware of her body, her clothes. The short black skirt she’d worn over bare legs and black lace bikini underwear. The sway of her unbound breasts beneath the halter top that tied at the back of her neck.

The state of her personal grooming.

In their first texted conversation, Ale had offered to meet her whenever she liked. After that, she and Ale had fallen into a habit of occasional exchanges that started with a kink question from her and always left her turned her on and wanting. Today, a particularly nap-inducing monthly meeting at the office that had ground to a halt with all parties left unsatisfied had sparked a desire to reach out to him with more intention. The idea of pushing herself to make a final commitment to “play” had been an irresistible temptation after that energy-killer of a meeting.

It had seemed such a good way to reward herself.

Will you be at the club tonight by any chance? she had sent.

If you’re asking me to meet you, then the answer is yes.

She did so like a man who communicated well.

Thank you.

May I make a suggestion?

Of course.

If you were making a playdate with me as my sub, I’d require you to wear a short skirt, no underwear, be clean-shaven.

Well, that’s a deal breaker, Ale. My girl parts chafe like you wouldn’t believe in my running shorts if I’m totally bare. Can’t compromise that Hot Chocolate training, right?

Lol. I can work with that. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt. At least, not unless I’m the one hurting you.

Now that made her cross her legs and inhale deeply. After a moment, she was ready to continue this totally-inappropriate-to-be-having-at-work conversation.

So, if I’m not your sub?

Yet. ;)

Yes, in that case? :)

If you’d like to play tonight (and by play, I by no means make assumptions about sex, in fact, let’s officially take that off the table, yes?), I’d suggest clothing choices, entirely yours, that offer…access. Assuming you’re not planning on stripping down in full sight of other club guests on your second visit.

Let’s assume that, yes. I was thinking more along the lines of that tour you offered me.

Let’s start as we mean to go on. With the truth: you were thinking more than that, or you wouldn’t have contacted me.

No comment.

Not an acceptable answer. Communication above all.

Picture me glaring at you through my phone. Yes. I was thinking more than that.

I’m glad. See you tonight at whatever time suits you, Callie.

9pm. See you there.

Five and a half hours later, she wasn’t entirely sure she hadn’t bitten off more than she could chew. She was, however, certain that Ale was about to get his hands on her very unshaven pussy.

It’s not like it’s a jungle, for Christ’s sake. I curate. I just don’t shave.

She’d had to endure a week of terrible chafing when she’d first taken up running with Kate and decided to shave spontaneously on a night when she knew she’d be having sex. The whole thing had left her scarred for life, metaphorically speaking, with a horror of painfully sore lady parts.

Kate, of course, had smirked and offered to apply aloe where it hurt.

“What’s that smile for?” Ale’s voice brought her out of her reverie.

When she told him, Ale laughed. “I think I’d like Kate very much indeed.”

No doubt. “I think you would too.”

“And what made you think of her now?”

Somehow she didn’t doubt that he already knew.

“You told me your subs are . . . required to be clean-shaven.” As someone who wasn’t used to letting a lover dictate, well, anything, the very idea of it being a rule still gave her pause. Her kneejerk reaction to something like that was to push back. A stamped foot and a muttered I won’t. Not terribly mature perhaps.

Ale was waiting for her to continue. She knew what he wanted. The truest words she could find about her own discomfort. That was part of what turned him on.

Kinks were weird.

“I’m feeling awkward, I think,” she admitted, “because I’m not and I know that’s what you like.”

“It’s not ‘what I like,’” Ale contradicted her. “At least, not on a purely aesthetic level. In that sense, I don’t have a particular preference. But there are practical and sensory advantages to being clean-shaven, especially when wax is involved. Plus, it’s an easy way to help a sub into the right frame of mind when they’re preparing themselves to scene. But I promise, I am not in any way going to be put off by an unwaxed pussy.”

Then he stood there. In front of her.

Waiting.

Callie sucked a deep breath in through her nose and pushed it out through pursed lips, trying to shove all her self-consciousness out with the rush of air.

Do or do not. There is not try.

Circling her shoulders released the residual tension knotting the muscles attached to her spine.

Ale smiled. “You look like a runner, loosening up before a race.”

Yeah, that sounded like about the right amount of ants-in-her-pants excitement. She settled back onto her heels, steady now. “I’m ready. Let’s do this thing. Put your hands on me wherever you want.”

“You don’t give the orders,” Ale said, stepping into her space and stopping her lips moving with his fingertips. “I’ll give you a choice first. You’re wearing panties, yes?”

She nodded.

Ale smiled at her, fingertips barely touching her mouth. Whatever choice he was giving her, she was to make it without further chatter. “You may take them off or leave them on. Your choice.”

The offer was clear: to escalate their play to a level she hadn’t been sure she’d be ready for this first outing. Even now, if Ale’s words had felt like a push, she might have hesitated. But his voice was judgment-free and his patient waiting lacked any pressure. When she didn’t question the choice, Ale even dropped his hand.

I might not’ve been sure about it when we were emailing, but I’m so, so ready for it now.

She reached up under her skirt, hooked her thumbs in her underwear, and tugged them down her legs. Then she stepped out of them and nudged them to the side. There were really so very few options when it came to dealing with knickers whose crotch was already soaked through.

But maybe he would touch her, reward her for the brave move.

Callie remembered the scenes she’d observed in the play rooms and recalibrated her definition of brave.

Maybe he’ll reward you for your slightly-braver-than-a-mouse move.

For now, her only reward was Ale’s calm nod, although she swore satisfaction gleamed in his eyes when he spoke. “Spread your legs, Callie.”

The words alone were so hot they made her pussy ache. Obeying sent a thrill up her spine that made her dizzy. She was so swollen and wet, she could feel her pulse between her legs.

Ale knelt on one knee in front of her, running his hands from her ankles up her thighs and under her skirt, fingers drawing circles on her sensitive skin. “Just relax. You can’t get this wrong. I won’t let you. This is going to be so easy.”

Her eyes had drifted shut while he spoke. The edge of his hand brushed against her pubic hair, making her shudder with the nearness of his touch.

A tiny spark of pain between her legs made her eyes fly open again.

Ale glanced up from his position at her feet, his hand between her legs plucking at the hair there, and smirked. The bastard. “Well, not that easy.”

She gasped with each brief sting.

“Look at that.” Another tug. The slight pains were merging with the building heat between her legs until she couldn’t concentrate. “See, there are pros and cons to everything. I wonder if different spots feel more or less pain when I pull?”

Like a demented mad scientist, performing the world’s weirdest sex experiments.

She tried to swallow her gasps as Ale worked his way from the top of her short curls to the ones born in more delicate areas. How he managed to keep hold of the slick hair when she was so wet was a pure mystery, but even at the core of her, where the skin was most tender and swollen with arousal and everything was coated with her slipperiness, he found a way.

“Ahh!” Too close! Too close to my vagina! “Fuck. That stings.”

“And?”

How he knew she was holding back was an annoying Dom mystery.

“And it’s hot,” she admitted, her cheeks burning. “I ache.”

“Excellent.” He ran a hand over her pussy, smoothing the hair down as she reached for him reflexively. “Keep your hands at your sides or I’ll make you keep them there.”

Her brain was breaking.

Another tug. Back up on her mound where the feeling was less intense. Not that having a man on his knees before her giving her orders wasn’t intense enough all on its own. She could feel his breath on the slick skin of her thighs where the wetness had slid down, making her shiver.

Mad. Fucking. Scientist.

Another sharp pain that flared and melted immediately into the heat that bloomed like fire between her legs. Her hands flew reflexively to block Ale’s next move.

“That’s enough.” His voice was stern. The hand he rested against her hip squeezed tight enough to get her attention.

When she shook her head, he pulled his hands out from under her skirt and stood up.

Her breath caught in her throat as Ale strode across the room to a tall cabinet and rummaged through it. When he returned, he had a short length of natural-colored rope in his hands. They’d texted about this and she’d said restraints were something she’d be open to exploring in their first scene. Ale’s suggestions as to what he might do had made her feel even more comfortable with and excited by the idea. But now. . .

Now, her arms trembled. Her jaw clenched.

Gabe. Gabe will come get you.

The thought caught her off guard. She wasn’t actually scared, just uncertain, but being reminded that Gabe was close by steadied her. Some.

Ale stopped in front of her and she braced herself not to step back, sudden anxiety surging through her veins like liquid ice. The gentle grip on her chin, lifting her face to his, wasn’t what she expected. Neither was the softness in his eyes, or the hug he pulled her into, looping his arms around her stiff shoulders.

“Deep breaths. No panic.” A hand running firmly over her hair, gentling her. “Remember, this isn’t going to be an actual restraint.”

“Okay.” She knew that. Ale had described it to her days ago. Why was she gasping into his chest?

“Adrenaline. Fight or flight is a powerful thing.”

She hadn’t even realized she’d said the words out loud. The thunder of her pulse settled into something more like a gallop. Words made sense again.

“It’s okay if you’ve changed your mind about this part, Callie,” Ale assured her, stroking the bare skin of her back with soothing hands. “Nothing we discussed is an obligation. I promise we can play without the restraints.”

She wasn’t ready to give up on her fantasy just yet. Especially now that she could breathe easily again.

“No, I want to. I mean, yeah. I should have said yellow. Obviously. I forgot.” Which was pretty stupid.

She pulled back from Ale’s embrace, face hot with embarrassment at the idea that she’d forgotten the only thing expected of her during this encounter.

But Ale was shaking his head at her now.

“That’s part of the challenge for someone new to the scene. And it’s why I may say it for you, if I think you’re too caught up in the moment to remember. If you keep playing, eventually your Dom will expect you to safe word whenever you need to, but it’s hard at the beginning, I know.”

“Thank you.” Jesus. She hadn’t realized her brain could get so far out of her control so quickly.

“I’ll show you in front first, so you can see.” He proceed to tie her wrists together by wrapping the rope around them in coils that climbed from her hand partway up her arm. When he was finished, he tucked the tail end of the rope into one of her palms. “There. You can struggle all you want and enjoy it.”

Doms said the most thrilling fucking things.

“If you let go of the rope, it will unravel quickly. You see?”

He lifted a chin at her hand and she let go. When she wriggled her wrists, the rope fell away in seconds.

“Got it.”

“But it will hold you tight as long as you don’t let go.” He rearranged her arms and rewrapped the rope in moments, leaving them bound tightly behind her.

Callie wriggled her fingers, tension thrumming in her system at the secure hold, so very conscious of her inability to do so much as brush a hand away if she kept up the pretense.

“I’m good.” Her voice rasped through the air.

Then Ale went to work.

Barely touching her for minutes at a time, he lit her up with light scrapes and scratches that sensitized her skin until she damn near vibrated all over and her body swayed toward him every time his hand reached for her.

Then he let her know how easily he could make her brain think pain was pleasure. Pinches. More intense scratches. He didn’t touch her with anything other than his fingers or the palms of his hands. He didn’t venture under her clothes again, touching her over her skirt and top, as if the fact of her clothes didn’t matter. He never kissed her.

After some length of time she couldn’t identify, Callie was dizzy with want. With need. Her breasts were swollen, her nipples hard. She’d spread her legs even wider at some point, telling herself it was for balance. Knowing it was an invitation.

An invitation Ale had ignored entirely, although the number of times he’d pinched her ass with one hand while rubbing the fingers of his other hand against her clit through her clothes made it clear he wasn’t avoiding the area in general.

“Do you want to come tonight?” Ale’s voice broke into her daze.

“I’m sorry?” She didn’t understand. Surely that was a question with only one answer. The throb between her legs made it hard to think straight though.

“Do you want to come tonight?” Ale repeated patiently, rocking his hand against her pussy.

She blinked her eyes shut on a surge of pleasure and leaned her hips into his fingers, needing just a little more to push her over. The scrape of the rope on her wrist edged the building pleasure with electric intensity. Struggling made it hotter, even as she clutched the end of the rope tight to make sure she didn’t drop it.

“Some people enjoy orgasm denial,” he said, then paused. “Well, enjoy might not actually be the right word. Appreciate, perhaps? Being brought to the edge over and over again, and then denied. Knowing your pleasure is in someone else’s hands, who may not choose to allow you to come for days or weeks. It’s not uncommon.”

“No. I don’t want to wait,” she rushed out, then blushed when Ale laughed. “I mean, waiting for the moment is fine. Whatever you want to do . . . to me. Is fine. But no, I don’t want to go home like this.”

Overstimulated. Wet. On edge.

“Too bad. I would enjoy thinking of you at home tonight. Alone. Aching. Wanting so badly to touch yourself, to make yourself come at last. But you wouldn’t have my permission.” The man was damn near a hypnotist with that voice. “You’d be tossing and turning all night. So restless. I would find that very appealing. Picturing you like that would make me very happy while I made myself come.”

“So the person in charge gets to come all they want, but the sub just suffers?” she asked, working herself up to a good dose of outrage on behalf of all the subs in the world, dying to orgasm.

Ale shrugged, clearly unaffected by her outrage. “Sometimes. Other times I might choose not to come either, to enjoy the tension of the delay.”

The snort burst out of her mouth. Ale lifted an eyebrow, grinning, and she blushed. “You BDSM folks are an unusual breed.”

“Don’t knock it—”

“Till I try it?” she asked sassily, suddenly feeling the urge to laugh at herself. What interesting places her determination to have all the sex she’d denied herself for a decade led her. Her cheeks hurt with smiling. “I believe I am, sir.”

Ale stilled.

What? Callie ran her last words through her head and straightened up until her posture would have passed muster in an etiquette class. (The idea of a BDSM etiquette class made her smile, then shudder as she imagined lessons enforced. Strictly.) She had indeed said something to give Ale pause.

Sir.

She hadn’t meant it like that. Were there gradations of “sir,” from politeness with a stranger to kinky master/slave stuff? Meep. Hope so. Regardless of whether or not she’d been joking or serious, Ale definitely had an opinion on the matter.

A strong opinion.

“That’s a word I’d be more than happy to hear you use at some point,” he said, crooking one finger in the waistband of her skirt and tugging her closer.

“I don’t think I’m quite there. That still feels like playacting to me. I think.” Two weeks ago she wouldn’t have added that last qualifier.

Ale’s smile was wolfish. “I’ll have to see if I can make an impression on your . . . thinking.”

Via my hand spanking your ass, that smile said. In case you didn’t get the “impression” reference.

That wasn’t what they were doing. This time. But suddenly she wished it was. Regretted not sending one last text: Um, yeah, that thing about the spanking? Impact play sounds excellent. Yes.

Please.

It wasn’t like she’d never felt anyone’s hand slap her ass in the middle of sex before. Or as a lead-in. But she had a feeling the same thing, when done by Ale, would have an entirely different feel. And she craved it unexpectedly. The heat. The sting. The building swell of pain and pleasure radiating from her skin, pushing deep into her muscles, her ass, the core of her.

While she was still lost in imagining that, Ale moved to the couch and sat down on the near end, legs spread in that way men always did, taking up all the space.

“Come here, Callie.” When she stopped in front of him, arms tied behind her, thighs slick with her own juices, he spoke again. “Straddle my leg.”

He patted his thigh.

“I don’t…” Her words trailed away as she stared, confused. There was barely room for her to join him. She’d be precariously balanced, tits in his face.

Ale smiled, clearly enjoying her nervousness.

And tapped his palm on his leg again.

She drifted forward slowly, as if being reeled in on a line. At the couch’s edge, she spread her legs until his knee pressed between her own. She shifted, preparing to climb on the couch, on top of his thigh.

“Let go of the rope.”

She did, and the length slipped to the floor behind her. She’d struggled indeed while her arms had been “tied,” and the pleasure that eased through her back and shoulders at releasing the rope made her groan out loud.

Ale’s next command slipped under that satisfaction of shaking out her stiff muscles, pinning her feet to the floor with his words.

“Lift your skirt.”

Her gaze flew up to catch on his. Heat flared in his eyes.

Lift my . . . how high? Does he want to watch me . . . do something?

She reached down and gathered the fabric of her skirt in both hands. Tugged it up until the cooler air of the room teased the wetness between her legs, pulling her attention tight to the few square inches of her body that weren’t nervous at all.

Ale shook his head, arms stretch along the back of the couch and its arm.

“Not that high. This is for you, my dear. Not me.” The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Not this time, at least. We just want as little between your pussy and my thigh as possible.”

“Wait. What?”

“You want to come? You can rub yourself off on me.”

Ale lazing back in the corner of the couch like a fucking king on his throne. She pictured it and shuddered, desire and shame squeezing her until her clit throbbed so hard she wondered if he could see it, were she to lift her skirt again. Her, crouched above him, grinding her pussy against the hard muscle of his quad while he watched her. Not laying a hand on her? Not touching her breasts or her ass? Not pinching her nipple again until she cried out? Just her hips driving against him over and over again while her face went up in flames until she came.

God, how long would it take her to come like that? How long would he be staring at her while she used his body to bring her own to the brink?

Long enough to make her pulse throb hard between her legs.

“Unless you’ve decided you want to go home like this after all?”

Fuck, no. She wouldn’t make it to her car before sticking her hand down her pants and getting herself off, which was going to be all kinds of awkward with Gabe no doubt insisting on walking her. And even that would be a poor second to getting off with Ale watching her. Not to mention the risk she would run by walking out the club door, all hopped up on pheromones and sexual fantasy, with Gabe, the man she could never resist, at her side.

Very bad decisions were made in situations like that. Very bad. Getting her hands, or other body parts, on an orgasm with Ale was absolutely essential.

Her brain was still working overtime though, making her hesitate for the most ridiculous reasons.

“But . . . your pants.” How stupid to worry about practical things like the wet spot, the wet lake, she’d leave on his tailored black trousers. Why the idea of that was so embarrassing when he was the one inviting it, she had no idea, but she could hardly bring herself to step closer to Ale, paralyzed with indecision and worry.

“The only things you need to worry about are the choices I give you.” Ale’s smile was wicked. “They are never without consequences, some of them more pleasant than others. Will you be embarrassed, knowing I’m going to walk out of this room at some point with evidence of your arousal visible on my clothes? Yes. Imagining that embarrassment? Your blush? Is entirely pleasurable for me.”

She was panting now, breathing too hard to keep her mouth shut. Licking her lips didn’t help because her mouth was dry with want.

To come or not to come? Not really a question. To ask to put her underwear back on, for the limited amount of protection it offered, or to leave it off, knowing exactly how wet she was? Her brain could hardly process the options in that scenario.

They’d hired a young British woman at work a month ago. The new hire was prone to swearing and conversational topics that would horrify HR, and Callie very much feared the woman was rubbing off on her. Especially the woman’s habit of referring to her knickers, instead of panties. Disregarding the peculiarity of there being enough conversations involving underwear on the job so as to require she make vocabulary choices about them, Callie was quite fond of her newly acquired word. Knickers sounded so much more friendly, and less cringe-inducing, than panties.

Stop stalling. Ask to put your knickers on, or. . .

Not.

She climbed back on the couch, skirt lifted again as she straddled Ale, wondering if this time around he’d tell her to raise it high enough to see. Wondering how fast or slow her hands would move at his command. Imagining the slow reveal of the shining wet pink between her legs.

Ale was silent.

She began to lower herself, but stopped before she touched him. With my pussy. Holy shit. She couldn’t help it. “Seriously, not to obsess about your pants, but I’m really . . . really. . .”

She couldn’t finish.

Fat chance Ale was going to let her get away with that. “You’re really what?”

Her thighs were burning. His gaze drifted down to her breasts and her nipples ached as she imagined his pinching fingers following.

“Wet,” she said at last, almost whispering.

“I know,” he said, pushing her skirt up her right thigh one precise inch with a single finger. “I can smell you.”

Her eyes shut involuntarily. Fuck. She could smell herself, now that he’d mentioned it, the scent of sex heavy in the air.

Before she could think twice, she let the question out that had been hovering in her mind ever since Ale had first announced that he wanted to push her up against the wall in the public play room.

“Do you kiss?”

The surprised look on his face nearly made her laugh.

“I do,” Ale said with a smile.

“But you haven’t. . .”

“Not everyone wants an intimate connection with their power exchange, even if that exchange is sexual,” Ale said after a moment’s thought. “Your approach to the scene as a whole, and to myself as part of the scene, struck me as more scientific than flirtatious. Plus, you brought a man with you who radiates possessive boyfriend. You didn’t seem particularly interested in kissing.”

“So, is that a yes, you would kiss me?”

With a smile, Ale ran his hands up her bare arms and pulled her face down to his with a firm grip on her shoulders.

“I’d be happy to kiss you.”

And then they were kissing. Softly. Kindly. Erasing a chunk of the weird distance that had overwhelmed her at the reality of a stranger touching her so intimately but never kissing her.

Ale’s mouth against hers was open, breath heating her face as she let his tongue stroke her own. Her hands swept up to grasp his wrists, balancing against his strength. Ale kissed the comfort and the want, both, back into her body.

The second she started moving against him though, her motions hidden by the closeness of their connection, the kiss ended.

He sat back with a smile. “Now. You’re on your own. Get yourself off or go home wishing you had.”

And with him watching her, eyes roaming her body, she did just that.

She rocked so much against Ale’s leg that the fabric of his pants grew slick and slidey. There was just enough roughness to the weave that she could feel it, the slight scrape lighting her up with every grind against him. The muscle of his thigh bunched over and over again between her legs, but Ale gave no other visible sign that her self-pleasuring on his body was turning him on.

Over and over again, her desire built, battered at her, then fell off before she could push herself over that edge into orgasm. Sweat broke out on her face, between her breasts, behind her knees. Her breath panted out as she rocked on and on, bursts of sound from the club breaking in and distracting her too.

Ale did nothing but watch for a very long time.

But eventually…

“Lift up,” her murmured into her ear.

She did.

Ale slid a hand beneath her and, without any warning at all, pressed fingers—two? three? She was too dizzy to tell—deep inside her. The stretch was immense, bordering on painful, but her hips bucked hard. A moment later, the fingers were gone. She wanted them back immediately.

“What was that?”

“Me satisfying my curiosity?” His voice was the raspy one now. “So when I imagine what it’s going to be like to fuck you, I’ll know exactly how it feels to be inside you.”

Her groan was shockingly loud, rising over the background chatter of the club guests gathered outside their curtained alcove. Background chatter that dipped and quieted for a moment. They were listening to her sounds. Her breath caught in her throat. “Holy . . . you could just put your dick in me and then you’d know for sure.”

Ale shook his head no. “That wasn’t what we discussed.”

“I’m officially giving you permission to fuck me. With your dick.”

“Ah, but I am enjoying this so much. I think I’ll wait for that pleasure to come on another evening.”

“What if I never come back? Or contact you again?”

“Then I will have made a very poor gamble, I’m afraid.”

“You’re killing me.”

“Callie, this is me going easy on you because it’s your first time. Imagine how much more I could do if I weren’t holding back.”

Which was pretty much the moment she decided she’d be contacting Ale again.

But for now. . .

“I don’t supposed there’s any point in asking you to touch me while I. . .”

“While you what?”

Fuck. The man was an absolute tyrant for saying this shit out loud. And where Callie would normally be happy to talk about sex with a potential lover, there was something so much more intense about knowing it was part of a power play on his part. She felt shy, and she’d so rarely felt shy since deciding to continue this journey of sexual exploration after her night with Gabe and Kate.

She’d been bold. She’d been fearless. She hadn’t hesitated to state her desires and act upon them.

But with the several lovers she’d tried out since that night, she’d absolutely been the one in charge. The men she’d slept with had been happy to have sex with her, but every detail of those encounters had gone as per her wishes.

And now everything she did was per Ale’s wishes. At his command, not her own. And it was absolutely fucking with her head.

He made her blush. He made her shiver. He was going to make her come, without even touching her again, as far as she could determine, and that was saying something.

“Callie?”

She sat up straighter, which meant losing the forward lean that was pushing her clit against his leg oh so very nicely.

What had she been saying?

Oh. Yeah.

She cleared her throat. Felt her face heat when she fisted her hands in her skirt and lifted it high enough to exposure herself to his eyes. “Will you touch me while I rub myself . . . while I try to make myself come on your leg. Sir.”

Sucking up there, because this was fucking hard work and she wasn’t one hundred percent sure she was going to get there at this rate, which was going to suck major balls.

Stop. Just . . . don’t imagine it.

Everything was dirty in her head right now.

“Ahh, now isn’t that a pretty sight? You are converting me from Brazilians I think. There’s something so subtle about the way everything is less visually available to me. I think I like it.” Ale sighed contentedly, and his eyes lingered long enough between her legs that she wondered if she’d tempted him to touch. Then his gaze lifted and she could see the mischief in his eyes. “But the answer is no. I will not touch your very pretty pussy and help you get off.”

How did I know that was going to be your answer?

She groaned, bringing a smile to his mouth. Then got back to work. The first thrust of her crotch against his leg made her shudder. Every part of her body ached with desire.

Sweat gathered at her temples, in her hair, the back of her neck.

Coming was more than a wish now. Coming was a burning need, the banner of a finish line that meant the end of pain and a release to the pressure that arched her back and made her cunt throb.

Ale’s eyes were black pools, steady and dark, their narrowing the only giveaway of his own arousal. That, and the hard cock that pressed against her when she slid forward too high on his thigh.

The rushing in her ears drowned out all other sounds. The rising chatter of the club. The sexual throb of the background music cresting and falling again. Her own panting breaths and broken noises. If she cried out when she came—if she ever came—they would hear her, all of them.

Gabe would hear me.

Pleasure burst through her. Her back arched as she slammed herself down against Ale’s hard thigh, crying out as she came.

After, body shaking, she couldn’t manage anything other than an ungraceful collapse against the man beneath her.

Slumping over Ale’s shoulder wasn’t immensely comfortable, but Callie couldn’t bring herself to move for several minutes. She tried to pull the pieces of her brain together to say something useful.

“Gabe,” was what she murmured into Ale’s shoulder.

“Yes?”

“He’s been waiting all this time.”

“Do you want me to bring him here to you? Callie?”

Her mouth shaped the word before her brain had a chance to rejoin the conversation.

“Yes,” she said through the sudden wave of sleepiness that swept over her, then yawned so hugely her jaw ached. “Wait. Maybe not.”

But Ale had already slid out from underneath her, grabbing a conveniently located blanket and wrapping her up in it before encouraging her to stretch out on the couch. Then he slipped a pillow under her head and stepped out of the room. The dark green velvet curtain that swayed behind him in the doorway was faded and worn along the edges. The rumble of conversation reached her again, louder than when she’d entered the room with Ale. More guests at the club perhaps or simply the loosening of tongues and other things as people settled in and relaxed for the evening. She wished she hadn’t been left alone in this room that suddenly felt too exposed.

Her eyes had drifted shut and her grip on the blanket wrapped around her shoulders was easing by the time the curtain rings scraped across the bar as someone reentered the room.

“She’s fine. Just tired.”

“I’ve got it from here.”

Two someones. No chance this is gonna be awkward at all.

Eyeing the two big, controlling men through barely cracked eyelids, she wondered if she ought to sit up and pull their attention away from each other. A serious case of chest-thumping seemed likely to break out at the slightest provocation.

After a moment, Ale smiled and gestured with one arm for Gabe to approach the couch ahead of him, ceding the right to check on her to Gabe. Ale didn’t leave the room, however, but took up a relaxed standing position near the archway, her coat draped over one arm.

Gabe crouched down next to the couch, knees crackling like they’d always done ever since she’d met him. Family curse, he’d told her. Terrible joints.

“Hey lady. How you doing?” Gabe brushed a light hand over her hair, smoothing it back from her face.

“Tired,” she said, and saw Ale lift a hand at the doorway to cover his smile when she confirmed his report. And okay, she wasn’t trying to rub it in that Ale knew exactly what condition he’d left her in, but Gabe didn’t need to be rude to the man either.

“Feeling no pain though, huh?” Gabe asked, smiling now too.

She’d always loved the deep creases that bracketed Gabe’s mouth when he smiled. Without thinking about it, she raised a hand to his face, cupping his cheek and rubbing her thumb along the edge of that crease.

Heat flared in Gabe’s eyes. Heat that was tamped down so fast she wasn’t entirely sure she’d seen it.

“We’ll be fine,” Gabe said to Ale, clearly dismissing him.

Good luck with that. Ale isn’t what we’d call a dismissible kind of guy.

Sure enough, the man who’d spent the past two hours sexually tormenting her with words and touches and demands—absolutely none of which had involved her getting him off, something she sort of regretted now that her own burning need to come had eased—didn’t leave just because Gabe suggested it.

Ale crossed the room again, standing at Gabe’s shoulder, looming over him in terribly unsubtle fashion. Gabe ignored him entirely.

“You remember your aftercare, yes?” Ale asked her, resting a warm palm on the crown of her head.

“Fluids with some sugar and sleep and calling you if I have any questions or want to talk about anything,” she recited like a schoolgirl, and everything really was dirty now because just thinking of herself as a schoolgirl led to all sorts of inappropriate thoughts. Especially from someone who could barely move at the moment.

“That’s right.” Ale nodded, draping her coat over the arm of the couch. “I’ll check in with you tomorrow, but it looks like you’re in good hands here. You’ll make sure she gets home safely.”

Those last words were directed at Gabe and Ale’s lightly accented voice didn’t conceal the command beneath them.

“Of course.” I.e., I’m not an idiot. Now get the fuck out.

The command intensified even as Ale kept the softness in his tone. She wondered if that was for her, to keep from fracturing the haze of her bliss. “I don’t just mean ‘make sure she gets to her car safely.’ She might become lightheaded or sleepy on the drive home, so you should follow her and make sure she gets all the way to her door and inside. Preferably with some juice, maybe something light to eat. And she needs to stay warm.”

Gabe’s irritation disappeared from his face as his brows pulled together and his gaze roamed intently over her body and face, checking for damages maybe.

Jesus. No way was she letting Gabe into her place to babysit her. Follow her home, yes. Tuck her into bed, hell no.

“Got it.” Gabe nodded, mellow now under the glare of Ale’s seriousness. “Do we need to hurry out of here?” His glance around the room indicated Lassitude.

Ale shook his head. “No one will come in until you leave, and everyone understands a newbie needs more time to recover. If you want to move to one of the couches by the fire, Callie, you can do that too.”

She and Ale said goodbye as Gabe tugged the blanket more tightly around her and then opened the can of Coke he’d brought in with him. He slipped a straw into the can and brought it to her mouth so she didn’t have to sit up.

Warmth bloomed in her chest as he watched her drink. Warmth she very much feared was spreading on her cheeks under his far-too-sharp-eyed gaze as a blush.

Such a good guy. I’m gonna need to not see him for a while, I think.

Gabe’s hand on her cheek was soft and scratchy both. His hands were always scarred from the metalwork he did as an artist, but she’d never known anything so gentle as Gabe, concerned for her.

Concerned, but smiling too.

“He really fucked you into a coma, huh?”

For a long time, she’d thought Gabe’s lack of sexual or emotional jealousy was part of his strength. One of his best qualities. After she’d learned how he’d forced himself to withdraw from his own emotions, fearing their strength, she’d regretted her glib acceptance of Gabe’s detachment. It had clearly done him damage over the decades.

But yes, if you’d just come on another’s man lap while he watched you with steady eyes, it was nice to know the guy who was taking you home wasn’t threatened by that.

She shook her head. “Not exactly. I mean, yeah. I’m a puddle. But he didn’t fuck me.” Which wasn’t exactly true, she supposed, because surely having your fingers inside someone counted as fucking them, but the feeling she was left with was of having fucked herself on Ale’s body. Of him having been the voyeur more than the one who fucked.

Way too many subtleties to explain with an orgasm-overloaded, worn-out brain.

“I can get myself together,” she said as she struggled to sit up.

Gabe pushed her back down until her head was on the pillow. “He said you could take your time. Just . . . don’t rush.”

Not rushing felt like an excellent idea. Especially when Gabe sat on the floor next to the couch and rested an unobtrusive hand on her hip. Not sexual. Just a reminder of his presence, a silent offer of . . . anything. Whatever she needed.

Silence. What she needed was silence and not looking anybody in the goddamn eyes for as long as it took to pull herself back together. Before long, however, the silence started getting on her nerves, pushing her to speak.

“We should go.”

“He said you could stay as long as you needed.”

“I’m good.” She wasn’t quite. If she’d been at home right now, she’d have been content to curl up on her couch for hours, quiet and cozy. But this wasn’t her home, and for the first time she regretted that.

No regrets. You weren’t ready to do this at home with someone you barely knew. But maybe next time . . .

She already knew there would be a next time.

Sitting up made her cranky, but she ignored the urge to whine about wishing she could teleport home instead of heading out to a cold car.

“How close did you park?” Gabe asked.

“Right outside actually.”

“Still got your remote starter?”

She nodded. The ability to start one’s car remotely with the push of a button was like owning a slice of heaven in the middle of a Chicago winter. Her Sentra was brilliant, heating up in mere minutes, but starting it from her third-story window overlooking the street was still a blessing.

“Gimme.”

She lifted her chin toward her coat. She hadn’t wanted to bother with a purse, so her keys, an ID, and a minimal amount of cash were stashed in there somewhere. “One of the pockets. Can’t remember which.”

Gabe rummaged for her keys and found them. “Got ‘em. Be back in a minute.”

By the time he returned, she’d shrugged into her coat and stood up on wobbly legs. Gabe pulled the scarf and hat from her hands and set about bundling her up against the frigid air. With her hat pulled down so low she could hardly see and her scarf wrapped a half a dozen times around her head, she felt like the Abominable Snowman.

Sexy.

She rolled her eyes at herself, confident Gabe couldn’t see her.

Sexytimes are over for tonight, girlie.

Outside, Gabe walked her to her car, then insisted she wait for him to pull around so he could follow her home, as ordered.

At her building, Gabe parked and threw on his hazards, exiting his car so quickly he was at her door as she opened it, a hand under her elbow as she navigated the broken mounds of frozen slush and ploughed snow between her car and the sidewalk.

At her front door, a thick layer of salt crunching under their boots, she stopped and turned to thank Gabe with glib words, brittle words, prepared for his send-off. The mist of her breath would mingle with his in the space between them as they said goodnight.

She opened her mouth.

“I want you to call me if you plan on doing this again,” Gabe said firmly while her mouth hung open.

“What?” she asked, incredulous. Her guilt over having dragged Gabe along with her to the club had done nothing but rise over the course of the evening. “No way. I’m perfectly safe with Ale.” A spurt of laughter burst out of her as her brain filled in the rest of that sentence. She blurted the words out without thinking. “At least as safe as I want to be.”

Heat flashed in Gabe’s eyes.

“Besides,” she rushed on. “That had to be one weird and probably uncomfortable way to spend an evening.”

Before she could blink, Gabe stepped into her personal space. His voice rumbled, all low and growly and vibrating in her belly until her body started waking up again.

“I’m not asking, Callie. You will call me if you’re going to take things further.”

She shot him a look sharp enough to cut glass.

“You know what I mean.” Gabe squeezed her shoulders with both hands, then gave her a gentle shake and let her go. “Obviously I’m asking you, but Callie? I want to be there. Period.”

What was it about Gabe that made it impossible for her to say no to him? That made her face flush and her heart thrill at the idea of his presence at her next kink experiment, even at the margins? Why, when she knew it was a terrible idea, was she absolutely certain she would call?

She was so totally fucked.

His dark eyes locked on hers, Gabe leaned into her until she started to tremble with anticipation, mind fogged with confusion and wanting and she didn’t even know for what.

“Call me.”

Then he kissed her.