She’s standing here as if she didn’t shatter my entire world six years ago.
Blinking my eyes against what I’m sure is a mirage, or maybe too much Scotch, I address the gorgeous woman standing demurely before me. “Macey?”
I’d recognize her anywhere, but this isn’t the girl I remember. I haven’t seen her in years, and she’s grown up. A lot. Her features are sharper, and she’s lost the childlike roundness to her face. Her hair is longer, lighter, and her makeup is perfectly applied. I don’t recall her ever wearing makeup. But mostly it’s the look in her eyes that’s different—as if she’s seen too much of the world and had to cut her own path through it. She’s harder, edgier, wiser . . . but she’s still Macey. And my heart is beating like a fucking drum at the sight of her.
“Hi, Reece.” Her tone is confident, but her body language doesn’t match it. Her eyes are guarded, and her gaze drifts to the floor at my feet.
I fell in love with her when I was nineteen and she was sixteen. I knew it was wrong; she was my best friend’s little sister. But when she lost her parents in a plane crash that year, I was the one she turned to for comfort, and our friendship evolved from there.
Of course, my best friend, Hale, doesn’t know any of this because it ended when she went away to college. It had to. Macey was always destined for more, and leaving was exactly what she needed, even if she took a part of me with her.
Despite the fact that we’re standing in the busy lounge of my BDSM club, Crave, I’m immediately transported back to her quiet, dim bedroom six years ago. I was twenty, with all the wants and needs of a man, and she was just an inexperienced girl of seventeen . . .
• • •
Macey’s panties were wet, and her chest heaved up and down with her quick, shallow breaths.
“Are you sure about this?” I asked her.
“I’m sure,” she said, her voice small but steady.
Her white cotton underwear left little to the imagination, since the now-damp fabric clung to the inviting pink skin beneath. I’d been rubbing her clit through her panties, unwilling to undress her completely because I knew what would happen once I did. Her knees were spread apart, her thin tank top unable to conceal the firm peaks of her nipples. She was beautiful—a lesson in contradictions. Shy but uninhibited; inexperienced yet eager.
She was close, whimpering softly as my fingers worked on her. My cock was so hard it ached, and all the blood pumping south clouded my judgment. Continuing to caress her, I used my free hand to release my belt and open my pants. Taking myself in my hand, I pumped my cock up and down, needing a release so fucking badly it hurt.
Macey and I both released a shuddering breath at the same moment. Her gaze was glued to my jerky movements, and I could feel all her muscles trembling.
“Do you have a condom?” she asked, a slight tremor to her words.
I had two condoms in my wallet, and as much as I wanted her, I was also scared out of my mind. I’d never slept with a woman I loved. Up until this moment, sex had been a meaningless physical act meant to quiet the need raging inside me, nothing more than joyless weekend hookups with girls whose names I wouldn’t recall in the morning.
But Macey wasn’t just the girl I’d grown to love, she was also my best friend’s little sister and a virgin—a combination that was completely off-limits. So why was I in her bed with my cock in my hand?
I didn’t answer her about the condom—not because I couldn’t—but because in that moment, the only thing I wanted was to watch her come. To see her beautiful features as she lost control completely.
As I leaned down to take her mouth, her greedy tongue met mine, sucking hard as she lifted her hips slightly off the bed, pressing herself into my touch. My hand slid up and down my shaft, and I knew I was going to come soon. I kissed a path down her neck to her collarbone, making my way down her body past the dip in her belly until I settled between her thighs.
Lifting the fabric of her panties to the side, I exposed her delicate pink flesh. She was beautiful. I’d always insisted that her panties stay on while we fooled around. It was my one nonnegotiable rule, a small thing to ease my guilt. Macey opened her mouth to protest until she felt my tongue lap at her clit, and then she gave a short whimper and buried her hands in my hair, tugging me closer as her head dropped back on the pillow.
I chuckled against her skin, loving the taste of her. She tasted even better than I could have imagined. And her cunt smelled so fucking good, I wanted to bury myself inside it.
My mouth was everywhere at once, all over her sweetness, lapping up the honey of her virgin pussy, nipping at her clit gently with my teeth, licking her in a steady rhythm over and over as I squeezed the base of my cock so I wouldn’t come . . .
• • •
“Reece?” she asks, drawing me back to the moment.
I want to ask her a million questions. How did she find me? Why is she here? What does she want?
But I’m unable to stop myself from studying her. Her skin looks so soft. I wonder if it’s still lightly perfumed with lavender and honey like I remember. I want to lean close and taste her, but I don’t. Control is everything to me now; it’s all I have. Still, I continue to study her, amazed at the beautiful woman she’s become. Long dark hair flows over her shoulders, leading to a trim waist and the gentle curve of well-rounded hips. Dressed in skinny jeans and tall boots, her shapely legs seem to go on forever.
She crosses her arms under her ample breasts, bringing attention to the fact she has a glorious rack. Dear God. Are those Ds?
“You’ve grown up,” I say, my voice strained as I fight to recover from the effect she has on me.
Noting how my eyes had briefly wandered from hers, Macey smirks. “So have you. Unless my memories are off. How tall are you these days?”
“God, it’s been a long time.” She smiles at me, but there’s a faraway sadness in her eyes I don’t like.
“Six years,” I say, even though it wasn’t a question. “Does Hale know you’re here?” It’s funny how my internal thoughts immediately go to him, almost like my subconscious is trying to remind me why I can’t do this. Besides, something tells me her older brother wouldn’t be too happy about her destination tonight. I don’t even know how she found me.
Shaking her head, Macey drops her chin toward her chest. The girl I remember was confident, carefree, and sassy. This version of her is more subdued and serious, totally unlike her.
Using two fingers, I lift her chin to meet my gaze. “Who’s done this to you?”
“What?” she asks, flushed and slightly breathless.
That reaction is to be expected, given our surroundings. Crave is Chicago’s hottest BDSM club. But her reaction to the club isn’t what I’m referring to at all.
“Who’s dimmed that light in your eyes?”
She looks away, not wanting to answer.
That’s the thing about Macey. Even from the time she was a skinny little girl, those huge blue eyes were like two pools of light that swallowed you whole, sucked you into her orbit, and made you feel alive and slightly out of control.
I can’t resist reaching out to touch her again, this time tucking a stray lock of chestnut-colored hair behind her ear. The urge to take her in my arms and hold her tightly flares inside me. And to say I’m not the cuddling type would be a huge fucking understatement. But this is Macey, and I really don’t like seeing her like this. I want to comfort her. It’s that same overwhelming feeling that came over me when her parents died. I just want to fix it.
She inhales sharply at the contact, but her gaze stays on mine. “How about a drink first?”
I nod, placing my hand against her lower back to lead the way toward the bar. After helping Macey onto the only open bar stool, I stand beside her and gesture to the bartender. Macey’s trying to play it cool, but her eyes widen as her gaze darts around the club.
The first floor is relatively tame compared with what she’d find upstairs. Slate-gray velvet couches are interspersed with high-top tables and leather bar stools, places meant for mingling in small groups or more intimate one-on-one connections. The people mingling tonight are a mix of businessmen looking to cut loose, bored housewives eager for an adventure, and sex kittens wanting to experience the real-life alpha males they’ve only read about in popular fiction.
Muted soft grays and deep hues of blue dot the space. Soft fabrics and low lighting are meant to invite you in and get you comfortable. The deep notes of club music thumping in the background create an underlying current of raw sexual energy crackling in the air. I can feel it, and I know Macey can too.
The open floor plan is both sophisticated and sinful, a balance I’ve worked hard to achieve with the help of a designer, and believe me, this place makes good on its promise for hot, discreet sex.
It’s New Year’s Eve in the city, and Crave, as the hottest place to be, is packed tonight. It doesn’t skimp on sleek, elegant décor, pricey liquor, or beautiful people. I should feel proud and elated, but instead my head is still spinning from the scene I just witnessed upstairs. I helped Hale with his new submissive, Brielle, just moments ago. She presented her tight little ass to us at his command, and even with her on display, all I could think about was getting back to Macey. I couldn’t believe when my security staff called me over, pointing to the woman near the door who asked to speak with me. But before I could gather my courage to approach her, Hale called my cell, asking for backup with his scene. Of course I went. He’s my best friend.
All I could think about was Macey during the scene, how Hale’s fucking little sister was out there waiting for me. If anyone tried to pick her up or take her to a private room, so help me, I would rip his arms off and beat him with them. And since that would be bad for business, I was hoping it didn’t come to that.
Hale would freak out if he knew she was here, so I kept things brief and stayed quiet about that fact, playing the part he expected of me before slipping out of the room to return to her. And now that I’m standing with her, I’m speechless once again.
The bar is packed, given that it’s New Year’s Eve, and we watch the bartender filling drink orders and slinging bottles for a couple of quiet moments.
“Why don’t you start out by telling me exactly why you came here tonight?” I ask. Last I knew, Macey had been living in Miami.
“Let me give you a hint.” She leans closer, letting the weight of her generous breasts brush against my chest as she bends close to my ear. “My personal life went to shit, and now I need hot, sweaty sex. I need forget-my-own-name sex.”
The sweet little Macey I remember has left the building, folks.
My cock hardens instantly.
I can’t even blame it on teenage hormones like I could back then. My attraction to her has always been a powerful, dangerous thing, hell-bent on getting me in trouble. I’ve had way too many fantasies of pounding into her tight, hot cunt. I’ve jacked off countless times to that image, as wrong as it is.
Just then, the bartender saunters up and asks what we’re craving, a little tagline my publicity company came up with. All the bar staff and waitresses have been trained to use it.
Having not spent any time with the adult version of Macey, I have no idea what she drinks, so I’m surprised when she orders herself a whiskey, neat. Something in me likes that she’s not a fruity-drink type of girl. Her personality is straightforward and intoxicating, and her drink choice reflects it. It’s a hell of a woman who drinks whiskey straight up, or maybe she’s more thrown off at seeing me than she’s letting on. I sure as fuck am.
Once we’ve settled in with our drinks, her gaze lands on me again. “So it’s true then.”
“What’s true?” I ask before swallowing a mouthful of Scotch.
“That you own this place.”
I give her a nod. No sense in denying it. Besides, I’m proud of what I’ve built for myself. I worked hard to raise enough capital, made some smart investments, and have worked my ass off to make this place a reality.
She bites her lip as she toys with her glass, then brings her gaze back to me. “When I got into town tonight and Cameron wasn’t answering his phone, I Googled you.”
Watching her expression, I’m trying to read her, knowing she’s thinking I never had a penchant for kink when she and I were together. But I’m not explaining the reason why to her. Not now, and hopefully not ever. My way of life has worked for me, and I don’t want to change it. I keep my heart on lockdown, a willing submissive on speed dial, and my dick wet. It’s all good.
Curiosity edges out my better judgment. “How long will you be in town?”
“For good,” she says, surprising me with the defiance in those big blue eyes. “I left my job, left my cheating ex-boyfriend, packed everything I owned, and here I am.”
Macey worked as a newscaster for a Latin TV station in Miami. She double-majored in Spanish and journalism in college, earning both degrees ahead of schedule. She’s smart and driven, and ambitious. Which is why it surprises me to hear her say she’s just thrown in the towel on it all.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” It explains the sadness radiating from her that I picked up on earlier. “So, what’s on your agenda now, other than the hot, sweaty pounding you mentioned?”
Looking up at me through her eyelashes, she murmurs, “Why don’t you finish that drink first, and I’ll tell you.”
I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or the erotic atmosphere that has loosened her up, but she’s more carefree now, becoming positively playful. “Are you trying to get me liquored up, Macey?”
“And what if I was?” A slow, sassy smile uncurls on her mouth.
Holy fuck. This girl is going to be trouble; I can tell in an instant. The flirting. The drinks. She’s trying to push me into action. Topping from the bottom.
So Macey wants a big bad Dom to show her the ropes? I should paddle her ass for showing up here tonight. But this can’t be like six years ago where I lose my shit completely, only to have her waltz out of town again when the next opportunity pops up.
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