Reece
I’m talking with my security manager in the camera room when Macey arrives back at the club. I watch her walk through the bar on the screen overhead. She moves confidently toward the elevator, looking sexy, her hips swaying as she walks. I can’t help but remember last night on the couch, feeding her small sips of Scotch as I watched her body’s reactions to me and the liquor, the way her nipples hardened beneath her dress, begging to be licked.
“Boss?” he asks.
“What?” What the fuck were we talking about?
It’s crazy how just the sight of her gets my blood pumping¸ my dick hard, and all thoughts to flee my brain, only to be replaced with fantasies of pinning her down and fucking her hard and fast.
“That switch who lost her paddle last weekend . . . what do you want me to do?”
Oh, right. “We’re not a fucking lost and found. Tell her it’s her responsibility to keep track of her equipment while she’s here. End of fucking story. Now, are we done here?”
He nods sharply. “Yes. Got it.”
“Good.”
I stride from the office and head straight toward the elevator, still able to pick up notes of Macey’s scent in the air. After checking in with my staff, I planned to go back to my office and get a few more hours of work done, but now nothing can keep me from jumping into what I know will probably end in a big fucking mess.
The elevator takes its sweet-ass time, but finally I stroll into my apartment. “Macey?” I call out, not seeing her.
Music comes from the guest room, so I knock lightly on the door.
She opens it, looking good enough to eat. Her hair flows in loose waves over her shoulders, and her big blue eyes latch onto mine. She’s dressed in fitted jeans that hug her spankable ass, and a silk top that drapes beautifully over her full breasts. Her skin looks so soft, I want to reach out and touch it, just to prove to myself that there’s no way it’s as soft as I remember.
“Busy?”
She glances back to the laptop that’s open on her bed. “No, I was just shopping for curtains online.”
I tilt my head, continuing to watch her. “Would you like to do something more interesting?”
“Sure.” She smiles at me, her brain already working.
I lean in close, letting my mouth and nose brush over her neck, and feel the pulse thrumming under her skin. She smells incredible, lightly scented with lavender and vanilla. I want to taste her, but that will come later when she’s naked and waiting, and I can take my time licking from one spot to the next.
“You are to go down to the third floor and meet me in my private play room. It’s the last room on the end, and the security code is 0413.”
“Your birthday,” she says without hesitation.
Pausing, I swallow, surprised as hell that she remembers that detail. “Yes. April thirteenth.”
She looks down at her outfit. “Should I get ready first?”
Fighting off a smile, I shake my head. She’ll be in her birthday suit soon. “You’re fine like that. Let yourself into the room, and remove your shirt and jeans. I want you to wait for me on the bed in your bra and panties. While you wait, think of your safe word. When I arrive, you’ll tell me what it is.”
“Okay,” she says softly. A pink flush spreads over her chest, as if she’s realizing this is really about to happen.
My own heart is hammering in my chest as I watch her turn and head for the door. Her round, apple-shaped ass taunts me with every step she takes. I can feel myself slipping already, and we haven’t even begun.
When the door to the apartment closes, followed shortly by the ding of the elevator, I dig my cell phone out of my pocket and press the button for a number I haven’t called in a long time.
“Oliver?”
“Hey, Reece. How are things?”
“I need some backup in a scene. Are you free?”
“Sure. Not a problem. When are you thinking?”
“Give me ten minutes, then meet me in my private room.”
“See you then.”
Arriving at my private room, I pause at the door to type in the security code, then let myself in. The overheard lights are off, and the shades are drawn, leaving only faint splashes of afternoon light to peek around the edges, casting the room in dim shadows. Macey is sitting at the end of the bed, her feet dangling from the floor. The generous swell of her cleavage spills over the cups of her black bra, and a small piece of matching black lace barely covers her between her legs. Her hair is loose, cascading over her bare shoulders, and her cheeks are rosy. She looks perfect.
I stalk closer, moving slowly and deliberately, letting her experience every bit of the uncertainty evident in her features. She chews on her lower lip, waiting, watching me. I stop directly before her, close enough to touch, but for now I keep my hands to myself. My cock is already half-hard, and if she hasn’t noticed yet, she’s going too soon.
“Have you chosen a safe word?”
“Yes,” she says. “Pancake.”
I smirk, fighting the urge to bite my lip. “Fine.”
Closing her eyes, she shakes her head and draws in a big inhale. “Sorry, I’m just a little nervous.”
“About what?” I ask, needing to be further inside her head.
Her gaze drifts to the toy bag I’ve placed just inside the door. “Pain.”
I shake my head. “Nothing to worry about.” Something tells me that any scars after our encounters will be psychological, not physical. Besides, I don’t enjoy doling out pain. “Can I make you more comfortable?” I ask, my gaze drifting down to the cups of her bra.
She nods.
Reaching behind her, I unclasp her bra, needing her to feel every bit as exposed as I do.
Macey doesn’t cover herself; she doesn’t cower. She holds her shoulders steady and lets me carefully remove the piece of lacy lingerie.
Her full breasts, unrestricted by the black lace, tumble freely into my waiting hands. It’s been years, six torturous years since I could touch her like this and make her feel good. I skim my thumbs across her nipples and she shudders, arching into my touch. Watching her nipples tighten as I stroke them, I’m reminded of little pink gumdrops, my favorite candy, and I bet she tastes just as sweet.
“You have beautiful tits, sweetheart,” I tell her.
Macey looks up, continuing to sit perched on the bed while I stroke her breasts and nipples. She presses her thighs together—the movement subtle, but not unnoticed.
“Are those panties getting wet for me already?”
“Yes, sir,” she murmurs, pushing her breasts into my hands, letting me massage and fondle her delicate skin. A knock at the door interrupts us, and her half-lidded eyes fly open, her expression puzzled. “Expecting someone?”
“Yes. Sit tight.”
I answer the door and let Oliver inside. Part of me is beginning to understand why Hale called me in for backup in his session with Brielle—he might not have known how to handle the depth of his emotional connection to the submissive under his command. No way in hell do I want to explore the similarities there between us.
“Thanks for coming,” I say, shaking his hand.
“Of course. However I can help, I’m here.”
I turn toward Macey to find she’s crossed her arms over her chest, hiding her breasts, and is sitting straight as a stick on the bed like someone jammed a pole up her ass. Remember when I said I’d be calling the shots, princess?
I stop in the center of the room, and Oliver stills next to me. “Macey, come here.”
Keeping one arm over her chest to cover herself, she slides down off the bed until her feet touch the floor. With her tits jiggling as she moves toward us, Macey’s wide gaze pings between me, Oliver, and the floor.
“Remove your hands, please,” I say when she’s standing directly in front of us.