Bliss Series Boxed Set: The Whole Damn Harem (61 page)

He took a step back to let me pass, but caught me by the elbow and stepped forward into my personal space, his mouth ending up mere inches from my face. “Dinner, drinks, movie, coffee … you name it I’m there, Sam.”

I righted myself and turned my head to face him, a shudder wracking my body as his breath fanned over my face. Yes, he was
that
close. “You’ll have to try harder than that. A good smile and confident swagger will not get this warm body in your bed. If you really want to know me, Sean, you’ll find a way to get my attention.”

Then I walked away.

It didn’t take long for him to get my attention. It took a little longer to get me into his bed, but that’s a whole other story.

∞~~~∞

I was met at Helen’s apartment door twenty minutes later with a smile and a freshly poured dose of sedation disguised as a Vodka Tonic.

“What did he do?” she asks, shutting the door behind me.

“Nothing,” I reply two gulps later as I walk to the kitchen where I spot a nearly full bottle of Grey Goose waiting for me.

“I call bullshit,” she states matter-of-factly.

“Where’s Rico?” I start pouring my second glass with a very healthy ratio of liquor to mixer.

“Gone for a run. Stop changing the subject, Sam.” She puts her hands on her hips and looks at me expectantly.

I ignore her and down my second drink just as quickly as the first before I continue. “Thank god! That gives me time to get a few drinks under my belt before he dishes out his manly wisdom.”

She smirks. “Well, someone’s got to talk you down off the ledge. You keep up that pace and you’ll be legless in half an hour.”

“One can only hope,” I mumble.

“Hon, pour a fresh one and come sit down. At least slow down to a slow jog rather than a sprint.”

I sigh loudly. “Oh, all right then. God, when did I suddenly give a shit about him again?”

She picks her wine glass up off the kitchen counter. “Potty mouth Sam is in the house, so it must be bad. At least my night will be entertaining if nothing else.” I scowl at her back before following her into the living room with the vodka and tonic bottles, then plop myself down on her large, gray, suede sectional that is even more comfortable than it looks. I turn and rub my face against the back of the couch.

“I think I want to marry your sectional,” I say with a sigh.

“Holy shit, woman, how much vodka did you put in those drinks? You’re talking about making a commitment with an inanimate piece of furniture. This
must
be bad.”

“The worst. No … the best. No, wait. Oh, fuck. I dunno. He’s Sean fucking Miller. Love of my life, regret of the century. The superstar of my fantasies.” I look her straight in the eye and I’m immediately cut to the quick by the sincerity and concern I see reflected on her face. “I’m screwed aren’t I?”

“Oh, believe me, I can tell you’re going to be if that man is still as potent and panty-dropping good as he used to be. Sammy, you need to take control of the situation. I remember how much of a mess you were last time, but you’ve grown now. You have your own mind and you know what and who you are now. Why is this affecting you so much?” she looks at my glass, then back at my face.

Leaning forward, I pour drink number four into my glass on the coffee table, take a long sip and busy myself back into the future sofa of my dreams.

“He’s aged so damn well, Hels. Seriously, he was hot in college, smoking hot. The good boy with an edge. But now … now he looks wiser, more dignified. And by God, the way he looked at me? It was like he could see right through my armor and was studying my soul.”

“So what’s the problem then?”

“He’s strong, and irresistible and likes to dominate.”

“This isn’t anything new, hon and at one time, he
really
used to do it for ya.”

I try to boost my flailing confidence by taking another drink. “Okay, so you know the club you picked up his brother from today?”

“Uh, yeah, everyone under thirty-five in Chicago knows about Throb.”

“Did you know about upstairs?”

“The question is how do YOU know about upstairs?”

“Oh, c’mon, Hels. I’m a cop, word spreads. But it was Zander who told me actually. There are private rooms up there for ...” I lift my spare hand and do an air quote, “stuff.” With that, Helen bursts out laughing—a bent in half, ‘have to put the wine glass down and hug herself’ laugh.

Rico walks in, panting and out of breath and looking every inch the hot Brazilian man he is. He looks at me and smiles. “Hey, Sammy.” Then he sees Helen laughing her ass off and tilts his head sideways, still standing by the now closed front door. “
Minha vida
, what on earth is so funny?” he asks with a smile on his face as he takes a few large steps to the couch and leans over the back of it to lay a big fat one on Helen’s smiling lips.

I look over at them and sigh loudly and happily. “That’s a new one. What does that mean?”

Rico looks over at me then back to Helen, his eyes full of love and adoration for his wife to be. “It means my life.”

Oh my God. I want that! “Guys, you’re making me all jealous and swoony. Please resume normal programming and let me wallow with my bedmate for a while,” I say, holding up the bottle of vodka.

Rico circles the couch and sits between us, not caring that he’s covered in sweat. He wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me to his side. “What’s wrong, Sammy? Whose ass do I need to go kick?”

“Mine,” I mumble.

“Never gonna happen. Try again,” he adds with an encouraging squeeze.

“No, hang on.” Helen recovers from her laughing fit and turns to me. “Sam, I love you to death and always will, but you’re no prude. I know that and you know that. So why does … oh, hell. Why does the ‘stuff’ make you uneasy?”

I open my mouth to reply but stop and look down at the empty glass in my hands instead. Does it make me uneasy? Or is it simply a case of the guilt bestowed upon me from the past? Shit! I look up at Helen and Rico who are both waiting for my answer.

“Fuck!” I say loudly. “You know what, Hels, you’re right. But Sean is in a whole world above that. One look down a hospital corridor and I was mush. I mean, melted into a puddle on the floor. He looked angry and annoyed and
intense,
then he saw me and that look turned to shock.” My drunken verbal diarrhea stage has begun it seems.

“You need to see him again,” Rico states directly. “You two have always had unfinished business, Sam. You broke up and then you went MIA from his life. You told me it was hard for you. Well, newsflash honey, if he was as into you as you were into him, he would have felt it just as much as you did. Us macho men may seem tough, but we feel too, you know.”

“What about Tanner?” Helen pipes up.

I narrow my eyes, confused as to what the hell my not-so-much-a-friend-with-really-good-benefits has to do with this. “What about him?”

“Does he get you all wound up like this?”

“No! Fuck no!”

Rico clears his throat and I jerk my eyes to him to see him giving me an all-knowing smile. I let my head fall back onto the couch and I groan, taking in Rico’s words of male wisdom. “Rico, do you always have to make so much fucking sense?”

“I see Sam’s dirty mouth is with us. Exactly how much has she had to drink?” He asks Helen, who starts laughing her ass off again, which starts me off. Soon enough, we’re all laughing.

Well, at least they took my mind off him I suppose.

“Take Me or Leave Me”

Sean

After leaving the hospital, I went to the club to check in on things. Amy had everything under control, so once I’d made all the necessary arrangements to cover Ryan’s absence, I called for a car and headed home to my condo.

Dropping my keys on the hall table, I turn the lights on before walking up the stairs and into the living room. I pour myself a drink and walk to the front windows, leaning against them as I watch the city lights dance in front of me. The hustle and bustle of the city below calms me somehow. Even though I’m not from Chicago, this city has become my home and has held my heart for twenty-one years now. The Bears, the Cubs, the Bulls, Lake Michigan, Cloud Gate, Wicker Park, the South Loop, Michigan Avenue … the list goes on.

I bought my condo in the middle of the city. The brick and stone exterior sold me at first, then the polished wooden floors of the living area, the mezzanine floor bedroom that I now call my own, and the rooftop that opens up to the surrounding skyscrapers. It’s bold and strong, yet welcoming with an inner warmth—a sanctuary in the middle of the busy metropolis. It is a perfect representation of me. And one day, I hope to have a wife and family here too. I mean, I am thirty-three. I suppose it’s time to start thinking about things like that.

I smile to myself briefly before the day’s events creep back into the forefront of my mind. Ryan’s epic fuck up, and Sammy. Samantha Richards. The unexpected blast from the past that has rocked me to the core.

How can she still get under my skin after all these years? Ten years is a long time for me to hold a candle. Actually a candle is too tame, too timid to describe the myriad of feelings I have for Sammy. A raging inferno or thermonuclear blast would be more apt. It had always been like that with us.

Back when we first met, I thought she was someone who understood me, accepted me, someone I could take care of and who matched me yin for yang both in and out of the bedroom. Then her harsh rejection of our relationship—of me
—
doused any flame between us.

Let’s be honest, I haven’t exactly lead a life of chastity since she left me. The break up affected me more than I’d care to admit, so I buried myself in school and women. It’s always been the same. If I see something that interests me, someone that catches my interest, I go after it (or them) because a long time ago I learned that you can’t bank on anything.

I make sure that the women I’m with are willing, fully aware that it’s a one-time deal, casual at best, and more than capable of giving me the power exchange I seek.

I’ve always known that I was dominant. Yes, I was a big brother who was forced to grow up quickly when my parents died, but it was more than that. When I first met Sammy, she was feisty and sassy. She gave as good as she got and that grabbed my attention. When I asked her out she declined, but offered me a challenge to capture her attention in other ways.

In the early days with Sam, I hid my controlling ways. I finally got her to say yes to a date with me after three weeks and a large bouquet of flowers delivered to her apartment every day for a week. When we started sleeping together, I slowly showed my true nature to her. At first she was hesitant, but as we traveled down the path of the mutually beneficial power exchange in the bedroom, and all the pleasures I could show her, she bloomed. She was happier, freer, and if anything she became stronger out of the bedroom, and it just made me love her even more.

But by the end, it didn’t matter anyway.

I always suspected she was a natural submissive. The beauty was that she didn’t know. It was just second nature to her. We clicked instantly because of that. Our chemistry was like dynamite. Whatever the real reason she broke up with me, whatever the lies she told me to make herself believe she was making the right decision, that was never in question.

To me, sex is a beautiful act that should be enjoyed. The act of submission, having a beautiful woman willingly submit to me, is one of the greatest gifts. I’m a dominant. I like to dominate women during sex. I own it. I don’t hide it, and I’ve never tried to. There is nothing depraved or wrong with it, and there are a number of women equally submissive who get off on being controlled. I don’t get into all the high protocol BDSM shit. For me, there is no need for presenting poses, contracts, or discussions about soft or hard limits. That’s not to say I don’t enjoy giving a damn good erotic spanking when the moment presents itself.

The club has a safe word that is used by everyone. There are viewing holes on the doors of every VIP room so the VIP Duty Manager can check on everything and everyone at any time. This is one of the important parts of the contract signed by our key holders. However, it’s their responsibility to negotiate with their partners before entering their room.

Four years ago I found myself in a position to expand my investment portfolio. I came across a nightclub in a precarious financial situation and the moment I walked into the large two-story brick and mortar building I knew I’d found what I was looking for.

Throb. My home away from home.

Having been a long time member of a few clubs in my time, I decided to mix business with pleasure—my own nightclub with private VIP rooms upstairs for exclusive use. The notoriety of those VIP rooms was enough to bring in the crowds, and for almost two years now, Throb has been one of the hippest and hottest Chicago clubs. It’s the club to see and be seen at.

Other than my condo, it’s the one place where I can be my true self. Where there are no restrictions, no judgment. To be honest, if people want to judge me and the club’s illicit reputation, then they shouldn’t have even stepped through the black marble doors. It’s that very reputation that brings people in.

Throb is also the only place where I play. I made sure that I had a personal VIP room for my exclusive use. And although I say I never take on regular subs, there was one woman who was my exception. Makenna Lewis. But that girl is every man’s exception. She was always straight up and to the point, walking to the beat of her own drum. She had different needs, and three ‘friends’ who tended to those needs. We all knew the deal, and according to Mac, we were all okay with it.

∞~~~∞

As we reached the door to my private VIP room, I turned around, pulling her so that her back was flush with the door and proceeded to take her mouth with reckless abandon. She gasped at my ferocity, allowing my probing tongue welcome access into her mouth. I remember groaning at the taste of her—tequila and lemon, I wanted to devour her.