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But she’s not here.

No, it was just him, a club that was familiar enough for him to feel at home, a good friend, and the girls he would play tonight to work some of this tension out of his body, and hopefully his damn head.

Finn found him, drink in hand, and they chose a long sofa to sit on.

Finn raised his glass. “Cheers, mate.”

“Cheers.” Mick raised his glass in salute, then tipped it back and swallowed. “Damn good Scotch,” he remarked.

“As always. Do you need another?”

“Not yet.”

His friend studied him for a moment. Even in the dusky colored light he could see Finn’s piercing blue gaze searching his face.

“So,” Finn started.

“So,” Mick finished—or so he thought.

“So, you going to tell me about it?”

“Tell you about what?”

“Don’t try to bullshit me, mate. I’m the mind-fuck expert, remember? My psychology degree has trained me to run circles around people’s minds.”

“Don’t even fucking consider crawling inside my head, old friend. You might not like what you see in there.”

“Do you really think anything could shock me? And that’s starting to sound like whining, if you don’t mind me saying so.” Finn raised a hand when Mick started to protest. “Yes, I’m sure you do mind. Whatever. I say what I think. As you well know.”

“Don’t think I didn’t come here knowing that.”

“In which case you must have wanted to hear what I have to say.”

“Since it’s fucking inevitable,” Mick said, not even trying to keep the wry sarcasm out of his voice.

“Damn right.” Finn leaned back and slung an arm across the back of the couch. “Shall we dance around this a little more, or are you ready to spill?”

Mick blew out a breath, leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, avoiding Finn’s knowing gaze. “I hate this transparent communication shit sometimes, you know?” he muttered.

“Then you shouldn’t have become a Dominant. Not in this circle, anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Out with it. There’s no other way, mate.”

“Fuck.” He ran a hand back through his hair. “There’s this woman,” he began.

Finn’s grin was blissful. “Isn’t there always?”

“Yeah. But not like Allie. She’s the one who’s been haunting me since high school. The one I can’t forget. She’s back in town after being gone . . . well, a long time. Years. And she’s into it, the kink. Hard core. We’re playing. And it’s totally fucking with my head.”

“Because you want her or because you don’t? And you don’t have to answer me. You’re the one who has to know.”

Mick shook his head. “I don’t have that answer. I mean, of course I want her. Christ, I’ve never wanted a woman as much. But ask me if I can give her what she wants? What she needs? That I can’t figure out. To be honest—hell, with myself, even—I just don’t know that I’m up to it. What do I know about relationships? The last real one I had was with her in high school.”

“Yeah, fucking pathetic. But from what you’ve told me, that was the real thing. Love, right?”

“Yeah, it was,” he said, an edge of fierceness in his voice.

Love. Christ, he had loved her so damn much. It made his chest ache even now. He’d carried it with him all these years. Carried her with him, unable to ever let her go.

He sipped his drink, his fingers flexing hard on the glass. “I thought some time and distance would clarify things, but it hasn’t done a damn thing. I’ll have to deal with it—with her—when I get home. I came here tonight to forget for a while.”

After several silent moments Mick turned around to look at Finn. His expression was thoughtful.

“It’s your thing, you know, Mick. Your decision to make. I’m thinking maybe you’re too much in your own head.”

“Yeah. Probably.”

Finn grinned. “I know a good way to get out of it.”

“That was my thought, too.”

“Ready to meet Princess, then?”

“Princess?”

His nickname for Allie since high school. Fuck.

He knew the subbie girls often chose cute nicknames, but why did this one have to be Princess?

“She’s a real beauty. Goes down nice and easy. Loves the ropes.”

Shake it off. It’s not her.

“Where is she?”

Finn made a gesture, and Mick followed the direction of his hand to see a petite woman with luscious curves and long hair dyed hot pink. She was dressed in nothing but a pale pink thong and pink knee-high boots. As she drew closer he could see that her nipples were pierced. She smiled shyly as she approached.

“Princess, this is Mick, our visitor from New Orleans. Be nice to him.”

“Of course, Finn,” she said, her voice soft, feminine.

His cock should have been hardening at the sight of her. She had a gorgeous, hot little body, her breasts large and firm, and a beautiful face to match. A prime girl—he was certain her time was vied for at the club.

“Hi, Princess.”

He couldn’t stand to call her that. Could not. Fucking. Stand it.

“Hello, Sir. Or . . . should I call you something else?”

Allie called him Mick.

“‘Sir’ is fine.”

“I would be very happy to play with you, Sir,” she said, looking up at him through long lashes. Her eyes were blue. Not that rich golden brown, like Allie’s.

Stop thinking about her.

That was the whole point in being here. So why was he finding it so damn difficult to do the things he always did with the greatest pleasure?

Finn rose to his feet. “You two seem to be doing just fine. Unless you’d prefer I stay for negotiations, Princess?”

“No, Finn, Sir. I’m fine, thank you.” She smiled, dropped a small curtsy. She was absolutely charming.

Except he was still left entirely untouched by her.

Mick stood, grabbed Finn’s arm, said quietly, “I don’t know about this, Finn.”

“Is she not to your liking? I have Tina waiting for me, but I’d be happy to trade out. She’s an amazing player. Sassy. You’d like her. Of course, Princess is top-notch, too. But if there’s no connection . . .”

Mick shook his head. “It’s not that. She’s as gorgeous as you said and I can tell she’s well trained. But I’m not . . . fuck all, I don’t know what my problem is.”

Finn looked thoughtful, then he gestured to Princess. “Sweetheart, go and wait for me with Tina, that’s a good girl.”

Princess blushed, curtsied to Mick and left. But not before he saw the disappointed pout on her pretty face.

“Oh, that girl back in New Orleans has your head twisted the fuck up, mate, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah. She does. Sorry, Finn. I thought this would be the best thing for me, coming here to play. To work some of this . . . whatever it is out of my system.”

“You know, I’ve seen a few guys in your position, and it seems the only thing that’ll really work is to work her.”

“Maybe. I don’t know,” Mick said, his hands fisting at his sides. His head was spinning. “I can’t believe I can’t do this.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Finn said. “Just do what you need to. Go home and fuck her right through the walls. Play her until she screams. Go to the gym and pummel someone’s head in. Go to one of your fights. Work it out, mate. You can handle it.”