She's All Tied Up: Club 3, Book 2 (4 page)

And then he sauntered away, wearing the smirk of a man who knew he’d gotten the last word.

Carlie shot off the seat of the machine, grabbed her workout notebook and towel and stalked in the other direction, her heart pounding, every inch of her on high alert as if she’d had a shot of supercharged espresso. He’d been watching her
breasts
when he collided with the other woman?
Omigod.

No way. He’d said that to rattle her. Hadn’t he?

“Excuse me.” An older man stood waiting.

“Oh, sorry.” She moved.

“No problem.” The man’s eyes twinkled as he sat down on the machine she’d been blocking.

And no wonder he was amused—she probably looked as rattled as she felt. Time to get back on track. She was here to work out, not to ogle Jake Stone. Carlie peered at her notebook. Right. Leg presses. She sat down on the padded vinyl seat and positioned the platform for her feet.

But then again, why couldn’t Jake have been staring at her breasts? Guys loved her boobs. Some even had entire conversations with them.

Except Jake liked teensy women. Didn’t he? It certainly seemed so after last night.

She peeped surreptitiously in the mirrors. He dropped one eyelid in a slow wink.

Her gaze shot away from his, and heat scalded her cheeks again.
Darn it.
How the heck did the man
do
that?

Sara said he’d watched her dance with Mase. Because he was waiting for her to screw up in his club, or because maybe, just maybe he wanted her, just a little bit? But even so, he’d walked away with another woman. Did she really want to be with a guy who went with multiple women, was open about it, did it at a club established solely for that purpose?

Definitely not her preference. In fact, so far outside her normal world, she felt dizzy, as if she were standing on the edge of an abyss, with Jake inviting her to jump and he’d catch her, one-handed, because the other might be holding another woman
. Eww.

Her father had been faithful to her mother through thirty-some years of marriage. This shone in his care with her and his emotional investment in their family. Carlie had always known she’d search for and find a man like her father, at least in that respect. She wasn’t too sure about having a husband who disappeared for hours on end into his hobbies, as her father did into his wood shop. Although perhaps he did so partly to hide. Paula Milton could be a little intense.

Jake had a hobby too—dominating women. In the plural. So what the heck was Carlie doing lusting after him and wishing he’d put his very experienced hands on her?

Food for thought. Zero calories, but plenty of potential for indigestion. As in, the idea sent not just butterflies flitting through her tummy, but a mass of huge, clawed insecurities.

Her luck with normal, vanilla guys was already so bad, what the heck was she doing thinking about taking on a dom?

Chapter Three

Jake grinned to himself as Carlie turned away, looking confused and rattled and cute as hell. Damn, she was fun to tease. With that soft, clear skin of hers, she blushed like a teenager. Sure wasn’t built like a teen, though. She had curves that would not quit, all on long legs that made a man want them spread wide for him, or maybe wrapped around his back.

Those full, soft, luscious lips of hers could let fly some bratty remarks, though. Made him want to shut them with a well-spoken command, except that she wasn’t a submissive, damn it all to
fucking
hell.

She was about as vanilla as they came, far as he could see. The shock on her face last night when she’d turned around to find D’Aurien and his latest sub going after it would’ve been pretty damn funny, if it hadn’t been such a confirmation of what he suspected—that Daisy’s best friend would
not
be following her into the club scene.

Oh, Carlie was interested in him. He wasn’t stupid. He had seen the tall, curvy blonde watching him more than once. Lots of times, in fact, and he knew sexual interest when he saw it in a woman’s gaze. Her little comment earlier had sounded almost…jealous. Her, jealous of that skinny gal he had bumped into? He snorted to himself.

As he walked over to the mirrors to get another weight, he grimaced at the thought of an armful of that aerobics queen’s hard little body. All too similar to Nita, the sub he’d scened with last night. He’d taken her upstairs to his favored domain and helped her get off with the restraints and a judiciously applied crop and vibrator, but although his cock had been hard, it was more an automatic response than real desire for her as a woman. With very little regret, he’d turned down her invitation to fuck her and ended up jacking off in the club shower, not with her in mind.

Some guys went for that skinny look. God knew every woman in America seemed to aspire to it, but himself, he liked a nice, curvy armful. Like Carlie.

And, looking at this another way, Carlie was best friends with Daisy, and Daisy
was
into kink. He could pump Daisy for information—find out if her friend had expressed any interest in coming to the club for more than a party. Also whether she had a man. Didn’t wear a wedding ring, so she wasn’t married, and the way she looked at him, she was definitely not gay.

Except that Daisy, who was sweet and fun but loved to chat, would relay every single one of his questions back to Carlie.

Besides,
hell
no. He did not do vanilla, and he did not do women who wanted to dabble their toes in the BDSM scene. He was a dom. He knew exactly what he wanted to do with Carlie, what he wanted her to let him do to her and with her, but face it, not many women shared his particular tastes.

Oh, he had sex when he wanted it. The club ensured he met submissives who wanted to be dominated and restrained, women who were open about it, some of them to the point they lived the life twenty-four/seven.

Carlie was a study in contradictions. She was so proper and ladylike in her dress and speech. But there was something about the shy, intrigued way she looked at him with those big, blue eyes that made him think maybe she was a submissive waiting to blossom. Jesus, he’d like nothing better than to introduce her to the lifestyle.

He wanted her under him, open to him. Wanted to tie her up, real carefully so that soft, silky skin wouldn’t mark. Wanted those big blue eyes focused completely on him, as she said,
Yes, Jake
to whatever he wanted to do with her.

If she wanted more, wanted a little pain to go with the package, he could do that. Just picturing nipple clamps dangling from those world-class tits of hers made his mouth water. And the thought of spanking her, reddening that ass with his palm, using a toy or two and then fucking her made him so hard he ached.

He also knew his dirty mind was a fool’s paradise, and none of his fantasies were ever likely to happen.

Carlie Milton had
forever and a mini-van
written all over her. She didn’t curse, didn’t smoke, she’d stopped after one margarita last night and there was not even the tiniest bit of ink to be seen on her creamy skin. Definitely vanilla.

Huh. He’d like to choose a tat for her, and the placement. Somewhere no one would see it until she stripped down at the club. Although the thought of other men looking at her, other than to admire the fact that Jake had her in his control, did not thrill him either.

He straightened and scowled at his reflection in the big mirror. “Jesus H., Stone,” he muttered. “Get it together. You want to scene with her, not fuckin’ marry her.”

He had damn good reasons not to get too involved with a woman. Let one in, and she could rip a man’s world apart and then walk away and leave him stranded in the wreckage. Nope, he was all about control of his own world, and the best way to do that was to hook up with women who wanted the same thing he did—some hot, kinky sex and a friendly good-bye.

“Sorry?” A skinny kid in the process of grabbing a pair of dumbbells looked sideways at him, eyes wide. “Uh, am I in your way, man?”

Great, now he was scaring the customers. Jake shook his head, forcing his face to relax. “No, you’re fine. Just talkin’ to the man in the mirror.”

The kid grinned, relaxing. “Whatever works, huh?”

Jake surprised himself by chuckling. “Indeed. Have a good workout.”

“Thanks, you too.”

Jake’s phone buzzed in the waistband of his shorts. He pulled it out, checked the incoming call, then flipped it open, absently tracking the progress of a blonde ponytail and pink top in the mirror as he answered. “What’s up, Hummer?”

“You got any plans for this afternoon?” Dack asked.

“Just laundry and shit. Why?”

“Well, I bought one of those portable fireplace things, y’know, for my back patio. Also got a case of Rogue ale. You wanna come over and help me put the thing together?”

Jake lifted one eyebrow. Dack was a builder. He knew how to put shit together better than anyone Jake knew. But maybe he had something he needed to talk over.

Jake just hoped it wasn’t some angsty shit with Daisy, because the only advice he’d give would be to walk before whatever it was got worse, and he was damn sure Dack didn’t want to hear that. Kind of funny how hard the player had fallen.

Dack was a chick magnet, and Daisy’s ass should burst into flames every time she walked into the club with him, the glares she got from other subs who’d either had Dack and wanted him again, or hadn’t had the chance and were pissed about that.

Whatever, Dack was his brother in every way but blood, and he’d listen to whatever the man needed to say.

“Sure,” he said. “What time?”

“How about two o’clock? Daisy’s going out with her girls.”

“All right. See you then.”

Jake shoved his phone back into his waistband and checked for Carlie again in the mirrors. She was jogging up the stairs to the upper balcony where the treadmills, stair-steppers and stationary bikes waited, and certain parts were bouncing in a very fine way. She and Sara were Daisy’s girls. The three of them were probably going shopping or somewhere outdoors that involved bikinis and suntan lotion. That he’d give hard cash to see.

Maybe they should have swimsuit night at the club. The subs could parade around in their bikinis, have drinks with those little umbrellas in them and shit like that. They could even have a swimsuit competition, where they took off the top or the bottom. Kind of a kinky pageant.

He imagined Carlie in a bikini, tits and ass bursting out of tiny triangles of fabric, and groaned silently. Damn, he needed to go to the club tonight, for sure.

Sunday was usually pretty quiet, so he took that night off, but he needed to scene with someone, and get Ms. Vanilla off his mind.

Dack Humboldt walked into the master bedroom of the condo he now shared with his girlfriend. “Petal? You in here?”

“Closet,” she answered, her voice muffled.

He walked across the beige carpet and stopped just inside the closet, which until a week ago he’d considered pretty good-sized. But that was before Daisy moved in. Women required an amazing amount of shit. Clothing, undies, shoes, purses, scarves and mysterious wrap things. And in Daisy’s case, some fetish wear he’d bought for her.

However, he grinned in appreciation at the present view in their closet. His pretty sub was bent over with her heart-shaped ass sticking out at him, clad only in brief turquoise bikini bottoms. From the waist up, she was buried in hanging dresses as she searched underneath them for something. Her ass wiggled as she moved, and he could damn near see the crack of it, if that narrow band of turquoise slid aside just a little bit more.

This was a good position for a man to move up behind her and have his way with her. They might have started the morning making whoopee in his king-size bed, but nothing wrong with a nooner.

Then she popped out, her face flushed, pixie-short platinum hair ruffled and a triumphant smile on her face. She held up a floppy flowered beach bag. “Found it.”

“You think you could lose it again?” he asked hopefully, admiring the rest of her in the brief bikini. Her perfect breasts swelled from the little triangles of the top. “I was enjoyin’ the show.”

Her gaze slid down his bare torso to the arousal tenting the front of his shorts, and her brows lifted. “A lot, from the looks of you.”

He looked down at himself with simple pride. “Yup. So what are you gonna do about it?”

She cast her gaze down demurely, but she was still smiling. “Whatever you want, honey.”

Dack growled, narrowing his eyes at her as his cock stiffened even harder, straining against his shorts. “I fuckin’ love when you talk like that, Petal. Why don’t you turn around and bend over again. Put your hands on the chest there for support.”

“Yes, Dack.”

She turned away and bent to brace her hands on the low bureau against the back wall of the closet that doubled as a seat to take shoes on or off. Arching her back, Daisy thrust her ass out at him and watched in the mirror as he shoved his shorts down and donned a condom with the swiftness of long practice. He’d learned real fast to keep a supply in every room of the place. They never knew where the mood would strike. Come to think, it had struck in every single room.

“You been a naughty girl this morning?” he asked as he unfastened the hooks in the sides of her bottoms and let them fall to the carpet. He traced his fingertips lovingly down the crack of her ass and teased her damp, pink folds with a light touch. “You need to be spanked for anything?”