Chapter Nine—Macey

I’m standing in the bathroom, arranging my toiletries on the little shelf above the sink, when my phone rings for the third time.

“Uh. Fine, I’m coming,” I say to no one in particular, stomping across my new apartment to hunt for my cell phone. I find it underneath a pizza box that has sustained me for the last two days. I’m tired and irritable, considering all I’ve done over the past forty-eight hours is unpack boxes, scrub floors, wash windows, and stew over the memory of my awkward session with Reece.

When I strutted into his club on New Year’s Eve looking for a good time, I never envisioned what could have happened. The Reece I remembered was a diligent, kind, and thoughtful lover. Not the kind of man to just walk away when it was over, leaving me to unbuckle the ankle restraints he placed me in, feeling confused and alone.

My phone displays a number I don’t recognize.

“This better be important,” I say.

“It is.”

Reece’s deep growl of a voice slams through me, and I have to brace myself with one hand against the counter. “Reece? Where are you calling from?”

“My office phone. You didn’t answer when I called from my cell phone.”

“I’m just in the middle of something. What’s going on?”

“I’m calling about our next lesson.”

He sounds so formal, as if we’re scheduling a dentist appointment together or something. I want to give him a piece of my mind, and I will. But now isn’t the time. I want to be face-to-face with him when I demand an explanation for the way he acted. He owes me that much.

“Okay. What about it?” My cool, detached tone matches his. Two can play at this game.

“Tomorrow. Eight o’clock. We’ll meet in the lounge for a drink first.”

“Fine. See you then.”

I hang up, determined to show him once and for all that I might be submitting, but I’m no pushover. Deciding that I’m done with the unpacking and organizing, I text Brielle.

Hey… How about that margarita?

Thirty minutes later, we’re sitting at a little place called the Lettuce Leaf, munching on organic chips and salsa, and sipping peach margaritas.

“I’m glad you texted,” she says, taking another long sip of her icy drink. “Aren’t these heaven?”

“They’re delicious. I think I’m almost ready for another.” I’m drinking embarrassingly fast, but dude, these are amazing. Like orgasms in a cup.

She watches me like she’s looking for clues. “Is something bothering you? You know, other than being cooped up in your new place?”

I shake my head. I don’t know how much to tell her about Reece and me, though she did seem pretty intuitive the last time. Maybe it’s the generous pour of tequila in my drink, but I’m looking across the table at Brielle, with her bright, inquisitive eyes and easygoing dressed-down style that includes a messy ponytail, and decide why the hell not open up to her?

“Reece and I had a session a couple of days ago.”

Her brows rise up on her forehead. “A session?”

“Don’t act so innocent. I know my brother’s a member at Crave, so surely that must mean you’ve been well acquainted with the kink that goes on there.”

She blushes and looks off in the distance. “I always wondered what Reece was into…”

“He was intense, unyielding, and when it was over, boy was it over. He just left me in his private playroom and told me to get cleaned up.”

Brielle frowns. “What about aftercare?”

“After what?”

She shakes her head. “Maybe that’s just a Hale thing. Never mind. Continue.”

“I just wanted to have a little fun, you know, blow off some steam, but now I’m questioning if I want to do that again. Sure, it was exciting. My heart was pounding a million miles an hour not knowing what was going to happen in that room, under his skillful hands, I just didn’t expect to feel so… unsatisfied at the end.”

Brielle chews on the end of her straw, looking thoughtful. “That’s strange that he was so abrupt about it. You know, Hale says that Reece has never settled down, has never taken on a submissive, almost like he’d had his heart broken and swore off anything serious. Which doesn’t make sense to Hale, because he says Reece never had anything serious enough to end badly. Although he did take his parents’ divorce pretty rough.”

Well, isn’t she just a font of information. It’s interesting about Reece’s supposed lockdown of his heart. I get the sense he’s closed off too. But why? It couldn’t have been my relationship with him. He’s the one who ended things. He could have had me any way he wanted me—geez, I delivered myself on a silver platter, but no dice. Besides, that was a lifetime ago. I’m sure he moved on. Many times.

“I’m not sure,” I say, taking another long sip of my drink while I gesture to the bartender for another. Fuck it; I’ll be taking a cab home anyway.

Brielle clears her throat, her expression thoughtful. “Reece turned to BDSM several years ago, and then opened his club a few years later. I don’t know much of his past beyond what Hale’s mentioned. Sorry I don’t have any juicy gossip. I suck at girl talk.”

I smile at her. “Well, I know something juicy.”

“What’s that?”

The bartender sets down two fresh peach margaritas, and I trade my empty glass for a full one. “He’s hung like a damn horse.”

Brielle chokes on her drink and coughs. “Seriously?”

I nod, a grin twitching on my mouth. “Seriously. That is one gargantuan slab of male virility. It’s like a huge fucking cock.”

“Oh my God.” Brielle is chuckling behind her hand. “He’s what… . six foot six?”

“Six four,” I correct. But yeah, he’s a giant. Built, muscular, handsome. And sweet, yet with a dark and troubled side I want to figure out. “And trust me, his cock is proportionate. It’s intimating. I mean, what do I do with that?” Remembering back to the way I made him come so quickly with my mouth, a twinge of pride ripples through me.

“Good luck with that,” she says, still flushed and grinning at me.

• • •

With my shoulders back and my breasts thrust forward, I walk like I’m strutting down the runway at a major fashion show. Confidence exudes from every part of me, and I feel powerful and alive. Now that I know what to expect, I enter the club with more self-assuredness than before. My heels click across the floor as I head straight for the bar.

Spotting Reece at the bar with a Scotch in his hand, I can’t help but remember the lesson he gave me on how to enjoy his favorite drink. He looks handsome but troubled with his broad shoulders pulled forward as he leans over the bar.

I stop beside him and lift myself onto the bar stool.

“What are you craving, sweetheart?” the bartender asks, stopping in front of me.

“One of those, please,” I say, glancing at Reece’s glass of Scotch.

Reece nods in approval as the bartender strolls away and grabs a bottle of Macallan, an expensive aged Scotch.

“Clever line. Is that your doing?” I ask, nodding after the bartender.

“The line? No, I paid a publicity company twenty thousand dollars to come up with that.”

When it’s placed before me, I take a small sip of the drink, letting the burn fade on my tongue before I swallow just like Reece showed me. We sip our drinks quietly, a strange energy burning between us. It’s sexually charged, but there’s something else too—something I don’t quite understand yet, but want to.

“What did you do today?” he asks.

“Nothing much. Ran errands, then I got a manicure.” I wasn’t thrilled about the expense since I’m not working yet, but unpacking chipped my nails all to hell.

He lifts my hand to inspect my nails. “Still black,” he says grimly, as if the dark color is a reflection on my mood.

“Yes,” I answer, though he can plainly see the color hasn’t changed.

The woman I saw in Reece’s office struts past, her lingerie-clad hips swinging. She treats him to a coy smile, and he nods at her. A flash of jealousy flares inside me. I know she must be an employee of the club, but still, it makes me wonder if he has a past with her.

“I’m not here for your little games,” I say, snatching his attention away from her like a little kid grabbing for her favorite toy.

“I thought that’s exactly why you were here,” he says, enjoying another sip of his drink.

Leveling him with an icy stare, I throw the rest of my drink back. “I’m here because I want a good time. And I think you want that too, need it.”

He looks down at the bar. “What are you saying, Macey?”

“No holds barred. If we’re doing this—let’s do it. No cutting out early. No going easy on me. I want the full Reece Jackson experience.” A smile lifts my mouth.

“You sure that’s what you want?”

“Positive,” I say, ignoring the wave of nerves fluttering in my belly.

“Then let’s go.”

Standing, he offers me his hand, and I take it, rising gracefully from the bar stool. Instead of heading for the elevator like before, he leads me to a stairwell that’s deserted and quiet. Nothing but the sound of our footsteps cuts through the heavy silence.

When we reach his private room, we stop in front of the door and I turn to him. “Do you ever do this in your apartment?”

“No.” Reece looks down at me. His expression is impassive, but his tone is harsh. “Do you remember the code?”

I nod, unsure how to feel about the knowledge that he doesn’t bring women to his place. That’s just weird.

“Your birthday.” When I punch in the code on the keypad, the door clicks open to reveal the same quiet, dark, and sensual room I remember, and my heart rate kicks up immediately.

“Undress and wait for me on the bed,” Reece says, his tone sure and steady.

This is Reece the Dominant, and I fucking love it. My belly is tingling with nerves, and I feel alive and eager.

“Yes, sir,” I say, then bow my head and cross the room toward the bed.

After stripping off my jeans, socks, and shirt, I fold everything into a pile and place it on the dresser, leaving my bra and panties in place, remembering that he seemed to enjoy removing those himself last time. The soft sound of classical music comes from overhead, and I turn to see Reece adjusting the settings on a built-in stereo panel on the wall.

I sit on the end of the bed and wait for him. Watching him cross the room toward me is a special form of torture. He’s so handsome and strong, but with an underlying vulnerability that tugs at my heart. I can’t help but recall my conversation with Brielle. There’s a sadness to him I want to chase away.

When he pulls his long-sleeved Henley off over his head, I’m treated to the elaborate ink that decorates his right arm from shoulder to wrist. I haven’t gotten the chance to fully explore it, but I want to. It looks delicious, and I’m eager to trace every inch of it with my tongue.

“You want to see them?” he asks, smirking at me.

“Can I?”

He shrugs. “Sure.”

Taking his hand, I lift his arm. He lets me drink my fill, turning it to see the designs that wrap around his taut forearm and his thick bicep. There’s a quote in what I think is Latin.

“What does it say?”

“It loosely translates to: Chase away the demons.”

Oh.

Dark swirls of gray and black designs decorate his skin, perfectly drawn. Whoever the artist was, he or she was very talented. Nestled within thorns and leaves is a vivid red rose, the only pop of color on the whole piece. It’s on his forearm, near the crook of his elbow, as if it’s been deliberately placed in that sensitive spot. I can’t help but feel this rose has a certain significance to him.

“A rose?” I voice my question, hoping my curiosity will be answered.

“Macey Rose.”

Rose is my middle name, but there’s no way he did this for me… is there? My heart is pounding, but before I can say anything more, the moment passes.

Reece leans over and grabs his toy bag. “You said no holding back this time, but I need to hear you say it. Are you sure that’s what you want?”

Swallowing my nerves, I nod.

“Tell me,” he says.

“I want this.”

He’s looking down at me so thoughtfully, and maybe it’s this heavy moment, or maybe it’s the beautiful rose permanently inked on his body that might be for me, but I want to kiss him.

Memories of our first kiss flash through me. It was raining out, pouring actually, and I was hiding behind my parent’s shed as I tried to work up the courage to run toward the house. Reece came to check on me and help me inside. The way the rain had soaked his clothes, making them mold to every hard, muscled plane of his body, was too much. The secret attraction for each other we’d been fighting all summer seemed to boil over all at once.

I can’t remember who made the first move, all I know is that suddenly our mouths were fused together while warm raindrops fell heavily on us. My fingers knotted in his soaked T-shirt while his tongue quested for mine. I remember my pounding heartbeat, and the damp flood of moisture between my legs when his teeth nibbled my bottom lip. His kiss was raw. Primal. And still the best kiss I’ve ever had.

We may be different people now, but that doesn’t stop me from leaning in toward him and placing my palm against his cheek. “Can I kiss you?”

He lets out a long, slow exhale, but doesn’t answer. “Lie down on the bed.”

Confusion rushes through me, but I do as I’m told. Reece’s fingertips skim over my belly, my hips, the pressure so light it tickles. His calloused fingertips are warm against my skin. It strikes me just how perfectly built for each other we are, his strength for my softness. I suck in a breath when he reaches the juncture between my thighs.

“Spread your legs for me. Show me that sweet little cunt,” he says.

His words are so crass, and I’ve never been spoken to like this before, but my body responds immediately. I’m warm all over, and between my legs grows damp.

“Beautiful,” he growls, running the pad of his thumb between my folds, feeling the slick heat that’s just for him.

I part my legs further. All my self-consciousness falls away at the appreciative tone in his voice and the hunger I see reflected in his eyes.

“I’m going to show you how to be a good submissive tonight. How to please me. Would you like that?”

“Yes,” I answer honestly. The idea of pleasing him makes me feel hot all over. Maybe it’s the way his tall, muscular frame looms over me, or that sexy-as-sin sleeve of dark tattoos, but I’m turned on and soaked already.

Shameless. But who cares.

When he removes a length of black rope from his bag, I present my hands to him, placing my wrists together in front of me.

“Good girl,” he says, looping the rope over each wrist and securing them together. Once my wrists are secured, he places them over my head, up near the headboard. “Keep them up here.”

Before I can even wonder what happens next, he lowers himself to the bed between my legs. “Just one little taste,” he says, and before I can prepare myself, his mouth is on me, his tongue licking against my sensitive clit.

My hips shoot off the mattress and I cry out. I want to bring my hands to his hair, feel the soft strands between my fingers, but I keep my arms above my head, wanting to obey him and take the pleasure he’s offering. Something tells me that maybe this is his way of making up for being an asshole last time.

“Fuck, you taste good,” he murmurs with his mouth still against me. “I could eat this sweet pussy for hours.”

Yes, please. My hips are circling of their own accord, my breathy moans getting louder and louder, my orgasm getting closer, when he suddenly stops. He fucking stops.

A frustrated groan travels up my throat. I blink open my blurry eyes, trying to focus on him and figure out why for the love of God he’d stop.

“Not yet, princess. I’m just getting started, and you won’t come tonight until I say so.”

I take a deep breath, trying to calm my raging hormones. “I understand, sir. Tell me how to please you.”

Rising to his knees, he flicks open the button on his jeans and takes out his thick, heavy cock, stroking it in his right hand.

God, that’s sexy. I could watch him do this all night, but after a couple of slow strokes, he stops.

“You want to know how to please me? Turn over on your belly and show me that sexy ass of yours.”

With my heart rate ratcheting up, I roll onto my stomach and place my bound hands underneath me, lying with my knees bent so that my butt is up in the air. I should feel exposed and uncomfortable, but the appreciative murmur in his throat tells me that he fucking loves this view. He’s always been an ass man. I guess some things never change.

“Have you ever done this before?” he asks.

“No, sir.” I’ve never been interested. But with Reece, I find that I am.

I feel him, the heat of his broad body against me. His chest hovers over my back, and his thighs press against the back of mine as he leans over me. I tremble when his lips touch between my shoulder blades as he places a tender kiss there. I wanted to kiss him tonight, even asked him if I could, but it seems this is the only kind of kiss I’ll get. Knowing that, I savor the press of his full mouth against my skin.

“I’m going to fuck this tight, virgin ass. And you’re not going to come until I say so. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I croak. Nervous does not even begin to describe my state of mind. I’m about to tell him there’s no way in hell I’m going to be able to come from this when I hear a low hum of vibration.

Wondering what’s about to happen, I feel Reece’s fingertips rub my back opening, warm and slippery with lubricant.

Oh. Hello there.

“Breathe for me,” he whispers, placing another one of those sweet kisses against the back of my neck that make me feel too many things.

I try to focus—not on the man, but on the act, the mechanics of it all. I need to keep myself detached. When the broad head of his cock presses against my ass, I pull a deep breath into my lungs. There is no way in hell that’s going to fit. That thing is gargantuan.

“Do you trust me?” he asks from behind me.

“Yes.” There’s no question, no hesitation on my part, and I sense that that pleases him.

“Then breathe and try to relax for me. I’m not going to hurt you. I know what I’m doing.”

I don’t want to think about all of the submissives who came before me, but perhaps he’s right. His experience with women will be a benefit to me, if I let it.

“It’s just I don’t see how this will work. I’ve never… and you’re…”

“Shh.” He quiets me with another tender kiss pressed between my shoulder blades. “It’s nothing that patience and a lot of lube can’t solve. Plus you have full medical coverage, right?” He chuckles darkly, and I stiffen. “I'm kidding, babe. Relax. I know what I'm doing. I’m going to make this good for you.”

I take a deep breath and try to relax. His finger is still stroking my asshole, and just as I’m getting used to the sensation, he moves the small buzzing toy—a vibrator—between my legs.

Unable to control myself, I moan.

“That feel good?”

“Yeah.” Fuck. It really does.

He rubs the toy against my clit and pushes one finger inside my backside.

Oh. That’s different, but it’s more pleasurable than I imagined it would be. I move my hips back and forth, enjoying the dual sensations. Soon the wide head of his cock replaces his finger, and he pushes forward very slowly, letting me adjust to him.

“Fuck, Macey,” he curses low under his breath.

I’m about to ask him what I’ve done wrong when he slides deeper. I lose my breath, along with my ability to speak. He fills me so completely; I’m totally at his mercy.

He grips my hip, pulling me back and forth on him as if I’m merely a vessel for his pleasure. “What is it about you? You make me lose myself.” He grunts with each thrust, still keeping his magic little toy against me.

I don’t answer. I can’t, because suddenly I realize how close I am to climaxing.

“Reece.” I breathe his name out on a moan. “I’m going to come.”

“Not yet,” he says, his commanding tone returning.

I cry out, groaning his name and begging. “I need…”

“No fucking way. When you come, it’s going to be on my tongue.”

My hips buck wildly, and I’m struggling to hold back the most powerful orgasm of my life. It’s almost painful. I bite my lip, crying out, tears stinging my eyes and my chest heaving.

Just when I can’t take one more ounce of pleasure, he removes the toy from between my legs. Thank fuck. Then he rocks into me in a few short, uneven thrusts, and his thick cock pulses inside me as he lets go. His voice is a rough whisper as he climaxes, and I’ve never heard a more beautiful or desperate sound.

Slowly, he pulls himself free from my body. I feel tired and used, but in the most wonderful way. I collapse into a heap, my legs buckling under me.

Reece lifts me and turns me over, laying me on my back on the bed. His cock is still hard and huge, standing tall. With his pulse thumping in his neck, and the veins straining in his arms, he looks sexy and dangerous.

“Let me untie you first.”

He works at the ropes around my wrists, and soon I’m free. My hands are cool and tingly as I stretch my fingers. Reece bends down and brings his mouth to my breast, taking one nipple in his mouth and sucking it firmly. My whole body is hypersensitive; I’m not going to last long.

Reaching between my legs, he slides one long finger inside me, and my pussy squeezes him. “Such a good girl, letting me fuck your ass like that.” His hot mouth moves to my other breast.

“Please, I need to come,” I beg.

“Only because you asked so nicely,” he says, positioning himself between my parted thighs again. His wicked mouth devours me, licking in a rhythm that quickly brings me to the brink. With my hands now free, I push my fingers into his hair, tugging him closer. I moan his name as he sucks my clit into his mouth, devastating the last of my self-control.

Like the crash of waves against the shoreline, a powerful orgasm washes over me, pulling me under. I ride it, my body bucking from its power, my breaths coming hard and fast until I nearly hyperventilate. When the last spasms fade, I lay flat on my back, completely exhausted, my chest heaving with each breath.

It takes several moments for the haze of my orgasm to wear off, and when I come to, Reece has already risen from the bed and is yanking off a condom I didn’t know he wore.

Irrational tears sting my eyes. Dammit. All I told him I wanted was some hot, sweaty fun. So why does his hit-it-and-quit-it mentality toward me hurt so much? Because we have a history, a deep shared connection that ended too quickly. I blink rapidly, trying to breathe deeply and calm down before I embarrass myself with a display of emotion that has no place in one of his scenes.

The faucet is running. Apparently Reece is washing his hands in the adjoining bathroom. When he emerges, he’s fully dressed. He looks cool and composed, as if nothing significant just happened between us. As if our being intimate was nothing to him.

He turns to face me, his face devoid of any emotion. “You did very well. You’ll probably be a little sore tomorrow. A warm bath with Epsom salts will help.”

I nod dumbly. I just want to be alone and try to process everything that’s just happened between us. “Can I stay?” I tug the blanket up to my chin, curling onto my side.

“Of course you can. Stay as long as you like.”

I turn away, shielding myself from the sight of him.

“Are you okay?” he asks. There’s a whisper of softness to his voice.

With tears in my eyes, I glance up and meet his worried gaze. “I’m fine.” My voice is sure and steady, even if my body is still shaking.

A few moments later, the door closes softly behind him, indicating to me that if I ever held a piece of this man’s heart, I certainly don’t now. Feelings of pain and confusion flash through me, and I hug the pillow tighter, noting his scent still lingers. Why in the world I thought this would be all fun and games, I have no clue. Reece’s rejection stings way more than Tony’s cheating ever did. I rub at an achy spot in my chest, trying to figure out what in the fuck that dull throb is coming from, and how I ended up so far over my head again.

Shit.

When I finally work up the strength to move, I get dressed and head out, hoping to get out of this club without Reece spotting me. I’ve never been good at hiding my emotions, and I’m sure my sullen mood is written all over my face.

“Macey?” A woman’s voice stops me in my tracks.

Shit. So much for escaping unnoticed.

I spin around to see Chrissy—one of the workers here—dressed in the same black lingerie as last time.

“Hello,” I say, my voice hoarse.

“Hi there. Everything okay?”

She must have noticed my attempt at making a hasty retreat. I consider shoving off and telling her I’m in a rush, but as much as I don’t want to admit it, this woman might know Reece better than I do. She could be a valuable source of information to me. And since I’m completely at a loss about what I just experienced with him, I stop and take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves.

Taking a deep breath, I try to smile. “I’m fine, really.”

Her gaze fixes on mine and her nose crinkles. “Are you sure? I saw Reece come out of his room looking… upset.”

“We just… never mind. It’s not important.” I hate how true those words feel. In all the years I’ve known him, Reece has never made me feel as insignificant as he did just now. I blink back a fresh wave of tears.

She frowns. “You can talk to me, you know. I’ve worked here alongside him for years. I’ve gotten to know him pretty well. Maybe I can help.”

“When did Reece get that rose tattoo?” I ask.

She lifts an eyebrow, considering it. “He’s always had it. Since I’ve known him, anyway. He built the rest of his sleeve around that piece. I’ve always figured it was important to him, but ever the secretive type, he’s never dished on its significance.”

“I see.” It makes me more curious than ever.

“You guys have been spending a lot of time together. Has he finally taken a submissive?”

“No, it’s not like that. I’m new to all of this, and honestly, I was just looking to blow off a little steam. It was supposed to be three lessons, and we’ve had two.” Two insanely erotic lessons that were hot and should have been fulfilling. But they lacked any real intimacy, and have left me feeling more lost than ever.

There’s a faraway look in her eyes. It’s obvious she’s recalling some memory of her and Reece. A fond one, if the slight smile on her red-painted lips is any indicator. “Is it still true?”

“What?”

“That he only fucks in the mouth or in the ass.”

I shudder. Holy shit. That’s… insane, if it’s even true.

I hate that she knows so many intimate details about Reece—the man who’s grown cold and distant in the years I’ve been away. I shrug. “Maybe.” Despite that being exactly what our first two sessions consisted of, something in me doesn’t want Chrissy knowing all the juicy details. Yet there’s something more about the way she says it, as if it’s a fact that he has some weird hang-up about sex. “Why would he do that?”

She sighs. “I asked him once. In my mind, the only reasoning could be that he didn’t want to have sex where he could get a woman pregnant.”

Interesting theory.

“But he scoffed at that and said it had nothing to do with it. I guess it’s just a personal kink of his. Who knows?”

“So you and he…” I swallow the painful lump in my throat.

“No, not really. Nothing serious, anyway. We played a little a few years ago, but that was before I became an employee of the club. He runs a tight ship here and keeps everything professional. If you want something with him—something real—trust me, I’d never stand in your way. Besides, he doesn’t see me that way.”

It stings to know he’s treated me exactly the same as he would any submissive he took to his chambers for a session. But I’m not just any submissive. I’m not a submissive at all. And we have a history. We should mean more to each other than that. Yet, he didn’t deviate one inch with me. For me.

At first I assumed it was because of some childish oath he made to Cameron. But now I’m beginning to see it’s because maybe it’s like Brie said—he’s been hurt and has an ironclad wall up around his heart.

I still want the same thing I did six years ago. God, have I learned nothing? Despite my tough-girl persona, I’m still every bit in love with my older brother’s, very unobtainable, best friend. Shit.