My chest tightens. I hate her answer. But I deserve to hear it. I ended things with her. “Believe me,” I say with a snort, “I’m well aware of that.”
“Then what are you worried about?” She scoops up another bite of ice cream, devouring it quickly.
“I’m worried about hurting you,” I admit. I’m worried what I give you won’t be enough and then I’ll break your heart again.
“Don’t be,” she responds, shoving her spoon back into her ice cream. “What we’re doing is fine. I can handle it. I’m a big girl.”
But she’s not a big girl. She’s ten years my junior, and she is nearly a virgin in comparison with the women I’ve been with in my world. “As you so reminded me, you are not the same woman, but I am not the same man as you remember.” I lean against the table, closer toward her, glad the employee is nowhere
near us. “I’m not talking about this because I worry you can’t handle a casual relationship. I want to make sure this is what you want…what you need.”
She cocks her head, wise eyes bright. “So, you’re asking me if being with you casually will make me happy right now?”
I nod.
“Yes.” She smiles sensually. “For right now, fucking you will make me very happy.”
I chuckle at her bold answer before I let my smile fade away. “If it’s ever not enough, I don’t want you to feel that you can’t tell me. I want you to tell me. All right?”
She snorts and rolls her eyes. “Geesh, when did you turn into such a serious dude?”
“I won’t play games,” I tell her sternly. “I need to know that this won’t hurt you and that you’re thinking clearly about all this.” I am who I am. I make no apologies for it either. I don’t do romance. I give what I can, and that’s passion and a passionate treat for the body. Taylor might not be a submissive like the women I played a Dominant role with during that time of my life, but the rules are much the same. I need to draw very clear lines that neither of us can cross. I refuse to ever see her cry again.
She leans forward and says quite seriously, “I know exactly what I’m doing, and what I want to be doing is you.” She picks up her spoon again, bringing it to her mouth.
I watch her tongue slowly and purposely stroke the spoon, my cock throbbing jealously before I lift my eyes to her face. “That’s really too bad.”
“Oh, and why is that too bad?” Being daring, I’m sure, she leans closer to me. “You sure look like you want to take me right here, right now, on this table.”
I slide my hand across her warm cheek, grasping her nape. “Because that’s what you want, and that’s not what I want right now.”
“And what do you want?” she rasps.
I tighten my fingers, pinning her in my grip, feeling her pulse kick up beneath my thumb. “I want to punish you for that tongue of yours and the wicked way it teases me.”
She grins seductively. “Then do it.”
Chapter 6
Darius
Tuesday morning went by quickly and uneventfully. By the afternoon, just before my lunch meeting, I enter the Irish pub, O’Keefe’s, finding Micah and Ryder sitting at the back near the pool tables, along with Gabe O’Keefe, the owner of the pub, and also the final member of our secretive group, the Dominants’ Council.
My mood is sour, considering my nonstop erections. Last night I refused four orgasms until Taylor finally exploded against my tongue as her punishment for purposely teasing me. She remains heavy on my mind today. My control to thrust deep inside her is wavering. I’m having to remind myself too often that I need to take this slow, no matter that she’s agreeable to our arrangement.
Right now, I don’t trust myself when it comes to her. She peels apart every layer of my strength, and when she looks at me like she wants me so very badly, I am weak before her desires. But until I believe she can handle such a casual relationship, I won’t go there. I can’t chance that I’ll make this situation worse.
The soles of my dress shoes click against the hardwood floors as Gabe’s light hazel eyes catch mine and he nods in greeting, sitting at the reclaimed wood table at the back of the pub. He’s the youngest of the group at thirty-four, definitely still very wrapped up in what this group of men stand for.
Once the status of being so powerful in San Francisco meant everything to all of us. Even the excitement of our dirty little secret as owners of a sex club who enjoy the darker delights of kink. But as I look upon Micah and Ryder, all I see is men in their mid-thirties who are not here out of their obligations to the DC, but are here because of our close friendships. We’ve lived our fantasies. We’ve reached the pinnacle of our success.
Change was happening within our group, and I could feel the shift as I take my seat next to Micah and across from Ryder. “Sorry I’m late,” I tell the group.
“No worries,” says Gabe, thrusting a hand through his messily styled dark brown hair. His T-shirt and jeans don’t scream multi-millionaire, but Gabe works at his bar and hired a COO to handle the business side of his chain of Irish pubs. “Can McKenna get you a drink?”
I notice everyone else is drinking and nod.
Gabe waves over the bartender, and as she approaches, the pretty blond in the tight skinny jeans and T-shirt with the O’Keefe’s logo holds the eye of every man here, except for Micah. He gives me a big grin, no doubt knowing I’d throttle him if I saw him checking out another woman.