[Truyện Tiếng Anh] Blissful Surrender

Author : B.J. Harvey

Sean
I’m not one who is easily rattled.
In fact, my cage is so secure it might as well be anchored to the ground in concrete. It’s why I’m so damn good at what I do—corporate law. ‘The Shark’ is what they call me. I revel in it, thrive under pressure. In fact, cool, calm, and collected should be my middle names.
Then, like the flip of a coin, there is the other half of my life. The side that isn’t so organized. My personal life, the part of my life that should be under control, is a cluster f**k right now. And as always, it all points to one person.
By day, I’m like Teflon—**** doesn’t stick to me. I don’t let it. My work doesn’t get brought home; it starts and ends at my office door. Just the way I like it.
I should be sitting back in my soft leather recliner, drinking a well-earned glass of Macallan on ice. So why am I sitting in front of aputer screen watching security footage of my younger brother Ryan hand an envelope to an unknown man at the club?
My f**king club.
Thankfully the video I’m watching isn’t a live feed. That would have been too much for me to handle. I have a pretty controlled temperament, but I’d be barreling down there and punching him in the face, then kicking his useless ass to the curb once and for all. Instead, I’m watching delayed footage from yesterday afternoon that my private investigator sent me.
Blood or not, nobody f**ks me over. I suspect Ryan is putting the club and me on someone’s unwee radar, and I don’t need the attention or the bull****. Yes, I know the fact that I have a PI watching my own brother speaks volumes. Ryan is a gullible son of a bitch with a magnet for ass**les and trouble in equal measure. As soon as I had an inkling...

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Zander Roberts has been my partner for six months and in that time he’s managed to do what many before him have failed at—loosen me up. I’ve been, for lack of a better word, uptight for the best part of a decade. In order to be the strong, capable and independent woman my mother raised me to be, I’ve had to wear what I now liken to being my invisible armor—impenetrable to anyone and anything. I’ve been all about the job; the academy, then working on the street doing general patrol and a field training officer. Zander was the last recruit I took on as a field training officer. I worked him to the bone for a month while he experienced what the reality of being a cop in Chicago entailed. And he did me proud. So much so that I requested he become my partner when I returned to patrol.

Now, we’re as tight as partners can be. He still has his moments where he drives me insane, but all in all, he’s professional, alert, and there is no one else I’d rather have my back.

I hear the computer in the patrol car ding, and with the press of a button I see a call come up for an assault at an address in the club district. Division Street to be exact. My body goes cold when I realize what club it is.

Dammit. ****, damn, mother-****ing hell. Why me!

Zander looks over at me and quirks a brow. “Sam, you think we might get moving? You’re just sitting there staring at the screen. Is there a problem?”

I shake my head to snap myself out of it. I can do this. I’m a professional. I’m a freaking cop for Christ’s sake. I can walk into that club, an establishment that, in itself, I despise, and do my job. Yes, I can be Samantha Richards, police woman and servant to the city of Chicago.

“Sam?”

I move into action.

Flicking the lights and sirens on, I turn the key in the ignition, then clear my throat and lick my lips which have suddenly gone dry as a f**king desert. “I’m good, Roberts. We’re good. Let’s get this done. Can you keep an eye out for the bus? We’ll need to make sure the scene is safe for them before they can go in.”

“Sure thing.”

Three minutes later and I’m slamming to a stop outside a large, black, concrete building with the word Throb painted large and proud in bright red writing across the front. It’s bold, daring, and proud … just like the club owner himself. ****! No, do not think about him.

Zander and I get out of our patrol car just as the ambulance pulls up behind us and I see my best friends Heather and Rico jump out then walk around the back of the bus to get ready. Checking that Zander has my back, I draw my weapon from the belt at my hip.

Together we walk into the club, taking a careful step inside. “CPD, is anyone in here?”

“H-Help! I need help!” a raspy voice shouts in desperation from the back of the large dance floor.

Zander runs ahead, weapon back in his holster. “Roberts, f**king hold up, will you? Have you cleared the scene? Think about your own back, and mine for that matter, before anything else. God, have I taught you nothing?” Zander’s good but he still has his green moments. Now being one of them.

He stops in his tracks and turns his head to look at me. “Dammit, he needs help, Sam.”

“I know, but right now I don’t care. We’re no use to him if we get attacked, are we?” I raise an eyebrow to him as I look around the room, scanning for anything or anyone out of the ordinary. Standing back, I’m still unable to see the victim.

“Is he still here, sir? Are you alone?”

“Y-Yeah,” he sputters out. “The guy that … uh, roughed me up some left through the back when he heard sirens.”

“Robbery?”

“Uh … yeah. It must’ve been.”

Suddenly I’m suspicious and there’s a knot forming in my stomach. A robbery of a nightclub in the early afternoon? Something isn’t right here.

“He didn’t get anything,” he continues, his voice getting stronger the more he talks. He sounds more sure of himself now; a complete one-eighty from when we first arrived. “The safe needs double verification and my brother seems to have changed the combination overnight without telling me.”

With Zander at my side, we both move quickly toward his voice. Once happy that the room is secure, I yell, “CLEAR!” toward the front doors, hoping the two officers out on the street hear me. “Where are you, sir?” I ask when I reach the bar. I look over and see a familiar man slumped against the fridges lining the back wall.

“Ryan?” I say in shock, my voice hoarse. I put my arm on the bar and push my body up and over, using my legs as leverage.

“Sammy? ****!” He falls sideways, but I manage to catch his head before it hits the hard tiled floor. I slide down to the floor and lean back against the wall, resting Ryan’s head in my lap. His right eye is almost swollen shut, and I see a cut to his cheek that doesn’t look too deep but is slowly oozing blood.

“Roberts, go get the paramedics. He needs help,” I yell to Zander who is coming through the side of the bar to join us.

“On it. You okay here?”

“Yep. Go get them, Zander. Now!”

“Can’t … tell … Sean …” he whispers, his eye closing.

I shake him, trying to keep him awake. He may have a concussion. “Stop, Ryan. Where are you hurt?” I run my hand over his head, flinching when I feel the familiar warm sticky feeling of blood and matted hair between my fingers. Guaranteed head injury.

“He jumped … me … in my own f**king bar. Sean’s going to be so—”

“No, Ryan, don’t worry about that right now. Where else?”

“What?” he looks up at me in confusion.

“Where else are you hurt?” I question.

“Ribs,” he wheezes. “The f**ker kicked me in the ribs, then knocked my head against the wall.”

“It’s okay,” I explain as I see Helen and Rico round the bar. I look up and give them a grim smile. They’re my best friends and just happen to be the paramedics on duty today. To be honest, it’s nice to see a friendly face given that I’m scared ****less that a man I’ve tried to forget for the past ten years could make an appearance at any moment. I look down at Ryan again and see his dark, sapphire blue eyes looking back up at me like I’m his hero or something. With his guard down, I catch a glimpse of the lost little boy from all those years ago; the man who never quite recovered from the tragedy of his past. It hurts my soul just as much now as it did back then. Losing your parents, and then losing your grandparents eight years later would have an effect on even the strongest man. Like Sean …

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I take a deep breath and swallow down the lump in my throat. “Ryan, the paramedics are here to look after you now.” I hold my hands up as he is pulled off me, then push off the floor and stand up, stepping out of the bar area to give them space to check him over. I look down at my previously clean blue shirt and see a large, crimson blood stain.

Dammit all to Hell. I’ve still got half a shift left.

Walking aimlessly through the room, I shake my head in disbelief. Ryan f**king Miller. The younger brother of the one man I’d ever let close enough to shatter me. At this moment, I hate and love his brother all over again.

Sean Miller.

The biggest sacrifice of my life.

The one I let go.

****! I need to get out of here before Sean shows up and my day goes to complete ****.

Then it hits me. With Ryan gone, there will be no one here, and if it was a robbery, there is nothing to stop the dickhead returning. Without thinking of the consequences for myself, I spin on my heels and head back toward Ryan. This is totally above and beyond the call of duty and I know it.

“Ry, is there anyone else here today? Anyone else working who can close up for you?”

“Nah. Sean’s not due in for another hour because of some deposition he’s involved with, and Amy, our other bar manager, is due around the same time.”

****. ****. Christ Almighty.

I look to the ceiling, begging whichever higher being watching over me to take me then and there.

“Where are your keys, Ryan?”

“Back pocket. Jeans,” he rasps out, his voice muffled by the oxygen mask now covering his mouth. Rico looks up at me and raises his eyebrow. I nod and watch as he reaches in to Ryan’s pocket, pulling out a foot long chain with a stack of keys attached. He makes sure he unclips the chain from Ryan’s jeans before throwing them my way.

Rico and I tried to date a few years ago, and although it didn’t work out, we’ve been close friends ever since. He’s Brazilian and all kinds of hot. Chocolate brown hair, deep green eyes, and a body that is a masterpiece of sculpted lines and hard muscle. One look at him and you can tell how much time and effort he puts into it. Helen is his partner and fiancée. She’s my complete opposite with black hair cut into a jagged, almost razor edge style that not a lot of women could pull off, but she rocks it, big brown eyes that are beautiful and captivating, and a unique style that she dons proudly—in and out of uniform.

They may be partners but Rico and Helen are also a couple. When they tried the dating thing a year ago—after I insisted— they hit it off like a space rocket on launch day. Sparks flew, clothes ripped off, and they’re getting married next year. I couldn’t be happier for them.

As I turn toward the club’s front doors and reach up to grab my radio, Zander walks in.

“Roberts, can you—”

“Tape is up and two rookies are still outside guarding the door. I scoped out the neighbors on either side. They heard shouting, and one called 911 but didn’t see anyone leave. Detectives are on the way, but I doubt we’ll find whoever did this. I came through the back door and there’s a small alleyway behind this block. I’d say the perp escaped that way. Once that guy is patched up they’ll be able to interview him and get access to the security tapes. Get a better look.”

I look up at my partner and narrow my eyes. “You did all of that since you went outside?”

He grins at me; his ‘I’m **** hot and I know it’ look that he’s famous for around the precinct. The former stripper in him shines through as he turns on the charm. “Of course, partner. That’s what you wanted me to do, isn’t it?”

“Piss off, Roberts. Your bull**** charm won’t work on me.”

“It’s worked before,” he retorts with a cheeky grin.

“Got your sights set on making Detective, Zan?” I reply back, smirking at him. My partner has come a long way in a few months. It’s great to see him taking initiative.

“One day.”

“It’s good to have a goal in life beyond being really really good looking” I retort with a smirk. “Anyway, let’s lock up and leave the keys with the officers out front until the other owner arrives,” I state, my cop persona snapping back into place.

“Return of the Ice Queen,” he mumbles under his breath.

“Say what now?”

He rubs the back of his neck as Rico and Helen wheel Ryan’s stretcher past us. Helen mouths ‘Are you okay?’ as they head toward the door, and I nod. It’s a white lie I know she’ll call me out on later, but at least it will be when I’m at home with a gin and tonic in my hand and not in the fetish club that my ex-boyfriend owns.

“Zander,” I say quietly once the paramedics and Ryan are gone. “I’m called the Ice Queen?”

His eyes soften. “Sam, it’s just a stupid name. Just ignore it.”

I think on it for a moment before I shock the **** out of him by replying with a **** eating grin on my face. “I’m disappointed. I thought for sure I’d be known as a ball buster. I’ll have to try harder.”

He cracks up laughing before giving me a shoulder bump. We walk out the front doors, pulling them closed before securing the club. I throw the keys at Officer Keats who is standing by our patrol car. “Keats, Detectives will be here soon. When Sean Miller or a bar manager named Amy arrive, please tell them what has happened and give Mr. Miller those keys. I’ll get the detectives to keep trying to get through to him as well. Any problems, call it in.”

When Zander and I are back in the squad car and he’s called through our clear status over the radio, he turns in the passenger seat and stares at me, studying me quietly. The silence stretches between us, and suddenly I’m feeling awkward and uncomfortable. I’ve never liked people getting involved in my personal business. I’m a very private person and he knows it. We may be partners, but I won’t be talking about Sean Miller and our history with Zander. Not now when it’s suddenly being refreshed in my mind, and not ever.

“Roberts, cut the ****. Let’s go,” I say, crossing my arms and leveling an equally unimpressed stare right back at him.

“You know him don’t you?” I look up at him and there’s concern written all over his face.

“Yes. He’s an old … friend’s brother. I’m okay, Zander. It’s not the brother that’s the problem,” I confess, knowing I’ve said too much, but unable to stop myself.

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“Then it’s the ex? Because if so, you need to be off this case now. Any connection is too much.”

“Is that what happened when Kate needed you?” I retort bitchily, instantly regretting the words the moment they leave my mouth.

For a brief moment, he looks taken aback by my comment, but he cools his response immediately. “Sure, Sam, I hear you. But I don’t understand the weird vibe I’m getting from you or why you’d be uncomfortable in that club.” He jerks his head toward Throb without taking his eyes off me. “Since you know Ryan and we’re quiet right now, do you want to head over to Northwestern and check in on him?”

I shake my head from side to side. I don’t need to get involved in Ryan’s mess this time. It’s not my place. It’s never been my place. Just like his brother has no place in my head. It’s ancient history, and just an unfortunate coincidence that our lives have inadvertently collided twice in as many months. I’ll just rack it up to being bad luck and keep Sean out of my head.

Lucky for me, I’m yet to set eyes on the very man who marked me all those years ago. The man who has the power to bring me to my knees, in all ways possible.

Somehow I don’t think luck is going to be on my side for much longer after today.

Chapter 2: “Safe Sound”

Sean

After spending all afternoon in a deposition that went way over time, I’m finally back in my office looking at a stack of messages my secretary has left on my desk and contemplating another long night ahead of me. It’s already 4 p.m., but I’ve still got half a day’s work to catch up on.

I spin my silver watch on my wrist, a habit of mine when I’m frustrated. The engraving on the back of it is forever engrained in my memory.

To the best man I know and the only man I’ll love.

It was my mother’s last Christmas gift she gave my father before they died and it has taken pride of place on my left hand. My grandfather gave it to me when the movers were packing up our old house in New York. He said, “Boy, one day you’re going to grow up to be a man, and then you’ll meet the one woman who will cut you off at the knees and realize that you willingly let her every time. When that happens, I want you to remember the love your parents had. It was an enduring love, the everlasting, all-encompassing kind that I know all about. When you find that, Sean, you grab hold tight and never let go.”

I snap out of my walk down memory lane and undo the top button of my shirt, running my fingers under my tie and loosening the knot I’d made this morning. I may like suits, but ties are my downfall. I only wear them for as long as absolutely necessary.

Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I look at the screen and grimace. My phone has been vibrating in my pocket for the past hour, but unfortunately, this is the first chance I’ve had to check it. Three calls from the club, and at least four more from an unknown number. What the hell is going on? I shouldn’t be getting any calls from the club unless the place is burning down. If Ryan really needs me he calls me from his cell. I don’t feel like speaking to him anyway. I’d likely say something I’d regret and he’d go on a bender again.

And right now, that’s the last thing either of us needs.

I ring the club and Amy answers. “Throb, Amy Speaking.”

“Amy, It’s Sean. Do you know why I’ve had so many calls from—”

“Sean! Oh my god! Have you spoken to Ryan yet? Is he okay?” She’s talking a million miles an hour and isn’t making sense.

“Okay Amy, slow down. Where’s Ryan?”

“Oh ****, you don’t know? Ryan was attacked in the club today during a robbery. He was knocked around a bit, then was taken to hospital about two hours ago.” I hear her take a deep breath, obviously trying to calm herself down.

“He what?” I’m in shock. I have to be. There is no way anyone would rob the club in the middle of the damn day. That’s ballsy and stupid, and simply f**ked up.

“He was beat up by a robber. There were cops here when I arrived to start prepping for tonight.”

“What hospital, Amy?”

“Northwestern.”

“Okay. Do you need someone to cover?”

“Already sorted, boss. Isabel came in. She was happy to.”

“Good.” I take a deep breath and try to relax. Despite his faults, Ryan is the only family I have left. I’ll deal with the money bull**** later—when he’s not in the hospital and beat up. “Okay, Amy. I’m going to go to the hospital. I’ll call by and check in with you afterwards. Get Michael to watch upstairs, and I’ll sort everything else out when I come in.”

“Right, see you later then,” she replies before ending the call.

****!

My mind is spinning as I call my car service and ask for an urgent pick-up before sitting back in my leather chair. With my head in my hands, and my fingers tugging my hair in frustrated concern, I wonder what the f**k Ryan has done this time. I may not know the details yet, but I’m automatically assuming the worst.

I grab my laptop bag, shoving in a few files that need my attention and walk out the door. As the elevator starts its descent, I’m hit with the reality that my brother is lying in a hospital bed having been beaten up in my club.

But this isn’t the first time something like this has happened.

I was twenty-five and working as a summer associate. I’d been working late one night on a white collar fraud case that had the potential to make my career in corporate law when my cell started ringing. Seeing Ryan’s name on the screen, I answered straight away.

“Hey, Ry.”

“Sean, I’m in deep ****.”

My breath stuttered as his words hit me. “Where are you?”

“Hiding in an alley behind a bar in Detroit.”

“Ry, what the f**k? You were in Chicago this morning when I left for work.” My voice was restrained as I tried to reel in my growing fury.

“Can we talk about this later? Right now, I need help. I was in the back room when the place was raided. I escaped out the back door and started running. Now, I’m in an alley, in downtown Detroit with my phone and twenty bucks to my name.” He was breathing hard and his voice was shaky.

My mind was racing. “****, Ry. You seriously need to start sorting your **** out. I can’t keep bailing you out. This will seriously f**k up my work on this case.”

“I wouldn’t call unless I were desperate. I’m stuck, brother.” He knew what he was doing.

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Our grandfather had died three months earlier, seven months after our grandmother had passed away in her sleep following a long illness. He had never gotten over her death and literally started withering away right in front of our eyes until the day he had a heart attack in the living room. Unfortunately, it was Ryan who came home and found him, and he’s struggled ever since. It just exacerbated the problems that started when our parents were killed. Overnight he’d become a thrill seeker; an adrenaline junkie always looking for a rush, wanting to prove to himself that he was still alive.

He decided that he was going to live every day as if it was his last. In all parts of his life. He lived and loved plentifully. Every woman who caught his eye was a potential soul mate. He loved easily and he loved hard. He also played hard … and often, which is exactly what got him into the trouble in Detroit.

“Ry, I’m a four hour drive away. Even if I tried to get a flight, I wouldn’t get there for a few hours.”

“Sean, I’m in deep this time. If the cops get wind I was there, I’ll go down for this.”

“For what?”

“Don’t worry about it, it won’t happen again. I just need some money or a car or something to get back home.”

I remember my stomach tightening and feeling a prickle on my scalp at his sudden evasiveness.

“****.”

“What, Ryan?” I asked, my voice getting louder and attracting attention from other people around me.

“Bro, track my cell or something. Do whatever you have to do.”

“What the f**k, Ryan? What’s going on? You’re making no sense.”

“I’m walking south, two blocks away from the bar.”

A moving target. ****ing fantastic. “Ryan, I don’t have time for this bull****.”

“****,” he muttered under his breath, but I heard it clear as day and slid immediately into my default protector mode. The same mode I’d been in for twenty years.

“Ryan, what’s the name of the bar?”

“What?”

“The bar where you were …”

He started panting loudly into my ear. “Big Rob’s Bar,” he replied breathlessly. I heard him start running, his footsteps against the pavement loudly echoing down the phone.

“Really, Ry? Big Rob’s Bar?”

“Listen, Sean, can you help me?” He sounded desperate.

“Why are you running?”

My jaw was starting to ache from the constant tension. Five minutes of phone conversation and all I’d found out was that he was in Detroit, running from a potential crime scene, and had gone from being worried but relaxed, to being on high alert, anxious and desperate in a matter of seconds.

I needed a vacation.

“Five of them just crossed the street behind me. Coming up fast. Check the hospitals first,” he spat out before I heard a yell in the distance and the phone being dropped. I jumped to my feet, shouting down the phone in desperation. “Ry? Ryan? ****! Ryan!”

All I could hear was footsteps and car noise, then Ryan shouting. “No, please! I have nothing. I’m just walking. ****!” More footsteps, car horns, then what I found out later were three guys laying into my kid brother as he lay in the gutter on the street.

Two of my co-workers had tried to calm me down, but I shook my head at them. I looked at my watch. 1 a.m. “Ryan!” I’d shouted one last time and with no response I made the split second decision to hang up and call 911.

Seven hours later, I landed in Detroit and jumped into a cab which took me straight to the hospital where Ryan was being treated for a concussion and four broken ribs. We returned home the same day via a rental car.

That was the day I discovered my brother had a gambling addiction that led him to a dodgy bar late one night for an illegal back room poker game in which he lost five thousand dollars just before the cops arrived.

It was the first of many brushes with the law Ryan Miller was to have, and the first of many bailouts that I’d give him.

Thirty minutes in my town car and I was now in the ER of Northwestern Memorial Hospital trying to find my brother, again. Yes, it’s nine years later, but this routine is starting to get old. Even if he was attacked by an alleged robber and is completely innocent in this situation, I’m sick of visiting my kid brother in the f**king hospital. I wait for two hours, which gives me time to boot up my laptop and go through my emails and messages. By the time I’m taken to Ryan, it has been four hours since he was allegedly attacked and I’m told by his nurse that he’s very sore and drowsy from the pain meds, so I can’t stay long.

I walk into his twin room and see his temporary roommate for the night—an old man who’s snoring his head off and drooling on his pillow. To be honest, this man looks like he’s in God’s waiting room awaiting his call-up. I walk toward the closed curtain beside him and pull it back to see a somewhat battered, younger version of myself lying in the hospital bed in front of me.

His eyes are closed and I can see an impressive bruise forming over his right eye as well as a cut on his cheek. He’s wearing what looks like the most unattractive hospital gown I’ve ever seen, and he’s hooked up to a blood pressure/heart monitor which is beeping quietly in the corner. There’s an oxygen mask covering his mouth and he’s got a wide white bandage wrapped around his head. I chuckle when I get an image of Humpty Dumpty in my head which is exactly who he looks like right now. Then I realize that it’s the first time I’ve laughed in a long time which f**king sucks.

Ryan’s eyes open and he stares at me, blinking a few times before a frown mars his face.

“Hey, little brother.” I step forward and take a seat in the chair by the bed.

“Hey, big brother,” he says, his voice muffled by the mask.

“What’s the damage?”

“Physically or financially?”

“Ry, what have—”

“It’s bad, Sean. Real bad.”

“How bad?”

“Worse than Detroit, bad. Worse than ever before bad.”

You’ve got to be ****ting me. I thought I could come visit him, see he’s okay, then go home to a nice glass or two of twenty year old scotch, but no, Ryan has put the kibosh on that plan.

The chair legs scrape against the floor as I stand up and start to pace in the small confined area. My body is rigid, and the anger is rolling off me in waves.

“Sean, they know about you and they know you’ve got money. Today proves they’re gonna try whatever means necessary to—”

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“Who are they?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

I scoff. “Well, f**k. Excuse me while I sit back and let criminals come into my club and try to steal from me, or bash my brother for a f**king gambling debt I didn’t know he f**king had. Or wait …” I pause for a moment, bringing my finger to my chin mockingly. “Should I just let them take whatever the **** they want from me just to pay YOUR debt. Let them take MY hard earned f**king money just so YOU are in the clear, ONCE AGAIN!” I bellow.

Ryan’s eyes go wide at my tirade, but I don’t give a f**k. I’m too wound up to care about being gentle with him. I can’t pu**y foot around this issue. He needs help and he needs it now before he ends up in jail. Or dead.

I glare at him and see his heart rate has gone up slightly. A nurse rushes in with a security guard at her back. “Sir, I must ask that you keep it down or I’ll have to ask you to leave. You’re upsetting the other patients,” she asks in a saccharine sweet voice.

I throw my hands up in the air. “That’s fine, I’m done.” I look my brother straight in the eyes. “I’m DONE.”

I bend down and grab my laptop bag before turning to the nurse who has taken a step back away from me and I stifle a laugh. I’ve been told before that I can take down a room— or underwear—with a simple look, but this woman looks like she’s about to be crushed.

Turning away from Ryan, I step toward the nurse who is watching my every move. I hold my hand out to her. When she tentatively places her hand in mine, I look deep into her eyes, turning on the charm that does me so well in the boardroom and the bedroom. “Please accept my sincere apologies. My brother and I were just having a heated discussion. And can you please get someone to call me when my brother is being released? I’ll arrange for him to be picked up. He can give you my contact details for payment.” And just for added sweetness, I lift her hand to my mouth and kiss it softly. “Have a nice night, ma’am.” That earned me a girly giggle. She’s way too young for my taste and in no way submissive, so we wouldn’t be a good pairing, but a little flirtation never hurt anyone.

I give her and the now scowling security guard a smile and walk out of the room as quickly as possible. I stop across from the door and rest both palms on the wall, my head dropping as I take in everything that just happened. My brother has f**ked me over. Not intentionally, of course, but his uncontrollable behavior has brought trouble to my door. I need to think about this and what I can do about it; who I can talk to and how I can pay the debt before anything else happens to my club or staff … or Ryan because Christ only knows I’m a glutton for punishment and I haven’t the guts to disown him.

Yet.

Regaining my composure, I push off from the wall and shrug off my jacket, then pulling at the knot of my tie, I take it off and stuff it in my pocket. Feeling more relaxed, I turn to the elevators and stop dead. Walking toward me is the one woman I never thought I'd see again.

She looks up and falters before she stops in front of me. It’s like one of those movie moments where the world around us goes blurry and Sam and I stand there in the middle like we’re in a silent showdown.

One that’s ten years in the making.

Her emerald green eyes stare into mine, and her sandy-blonde hair flows softly around her face. I’m awestruck. She’s even more beautiful than when she was a fresh-faced, radiant woman with the world at her feet at twenty-two.

Samantha Richards, the woman who once held all the power and refused to acknowledge it. The woman who walked out of my life and rejected me with no explanation.

The woman who deserted me at a time when I needed her the most.

Chapter 3: “If You Ever Come Back”

Sam

Time stands still the moment I lock eyes with Sean in the bustling hospital corridor. We just stand there staring at each other for what seems like an eternity until my brain finally kicks into gear and I turn to leave.

“Sammy,” he says, stopping me in my tracks. I take a deep resigned breath and turn back around to face him—my biggest regret in life.

“Sean. Long time, no see,” I say confidently. My mom always told me to tackle each difficult situation with confidence, grace, and a ‘take no prisoners’ attitude. That advice got me through the police academy and gained me my ‘Ice Queen’ reputation it seems. Unfortunately, the pensive expression on his face shows he sees right through the façade.

“Are you here visiting?” His eyes drop and I watch as he does a full body scan before returning his stormy-blue gaze back to mine. I struggle to hold back the tremor that surges through me. He still affects me deep to my core.

“Yes, my partner and I were the first on the scene today when Ryan was assaulted,” I explain. I’m impressed at my ability to form coherent sentences in front of him, let alone being able to converse intelligently.

As he lifts his arm and grips the back of his neck, I take the opportunity to look him over. By God, he has aged well. No, scratch that, he has aged f**king well. His dark brown hair is cut short, matching the strong, unyielding personality I knew he once had. When we were together, Sean was a commanding force to be reckoned with. He could always walk into a room and own it within seconds.

When I look at his face again, I’m met with piercing blue eyes that threaten to unnerve me. I square my shoulders, creating an illusion of strength. I can tell that something is troubling him. His chiseled jaw is clenched tight like he’s trying to rein in whatever emotion is consuming him.

Just as an uncomfortable silence stretches between us, he quirks an eyebrow at me and his eyes crinkle slightly.

He just caught me checking him out.

C’mon, you can’t fault me. I’m a woman nearing the peak of my ***ual prime. I haven’t had an orgasm in four days, and I’m standing in front of the man who unintentionally ruined me for any other man. Something I’ll never admit to him.

Ever.

“You were there first?” he asks incredulously.

“That’s what I said,” I retort. My defense mechanism emerges from her dreamy Sean trance, stepping into her bitch panties and wearing them with pride.

His gorgeous eyes widen, but he quickly recovers. “Why?”

I know he’s assessing me, watching my reactions like a hawk. “I joined the academy after college. Been with Chicago PD ever since.” This conversation is as awkward as I knew it would be. Is it ever easy to talk with someone who you can’t admit still holds a place deep inside you? A man who you never allowed yourself to have a chance of a future with? Yeah … no!

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“I’m getting the impression you’re still a hard ass too. At work anyway …” His gaze drops to my mouth, not missing the moment I drag my tongue along my suddenly parched lips. It’s a nervous habit that I’ve never been able to shake, and it’s obvious that Sean remembers too because his eyes flare quickly before returning to mine. Putting his hand in his pant pocket, my attention is drawn to his chest, his hips, his ….

I shake my head and catch the slight curl of his lips into an irresistible smirk. Dammit, he’s still the master mind reader he always was. Right, Sam, snap out of it. You’re here to check on Ryan then you can go to Helen’s and get reacquainted with your friend Vodka.

Hang on.

What did he mean by ‘at work anyway’?

“You look well, Sam,” he adds, suddenly putting a crack in my armor with a simple compliment. “Had I known you were still in Chicago … well, I would have—”

“I’m just going to pop into Ryan’s room and make sure he’s okay.”

His body jolts and I definitely don’t miss the look of disbelief that shadows his expression. He studies my face, unnerving me to the core. “Do you have plans tonight?” His confidence is unmistakable as he waits for my answer.

An unexpected wave of warmth spread through my body from the fact that he wants to see me again. He’s gotten to me, just from a simple five minute conversation. I feel like I’m against the ropes with little to no options of winning. My eyes widen as I look at his lips again. “Yes.” My voice shakes slightly and the slowly growing smile on his lips tells me he did not miss it. “I’m going to my friends’ place for dinner.” I look down at my watch and realize that visiting hours will be over soon. “Sorry, Sean, but I’d better get to Ryan before visiting hours end. Great to see you again though,” I lie through my teeth. It’s f**king terrifying and thrilling at the same time.

He steps back, not appearing rattled or shocked by my act. “I see,” he murmurs. “Well, thanks for helping Ryan this afternoon. I know it’s your job, but he was knocked around a bit and it must have made him feel better knowing you were there. I own that club, so if there is anything you need … professionally, or any questions that need answers, please don’t hesitate.” He’s all business now as he pulls out his business card and hands it to me. I look at him and then the card before taking it in my fingertips. When my hands brush against his, the energy between us is palpable.

I adjust my purse on my shoulder and stand straight, almost eye to eye with this foreboding and gorgeous man from my past. In a split second that gives me no hope of evasion, he takes a step forward and wraps his arm around my waist, resting his hand on the small of my back and bringing my body close to his. Kissing my cheek, he brings his mouth so close to my ear that I tingle with the sensation of his warm breath on my skin.

“Until next time, Sammy ...” He kisses a spot just below my ear, turning the tingle into a full body shiver of the good but embarrassingly obvious kind, before he steps away, pulling his arm away and walking down the corridor away from me.

I stand there dumbstruck, replaying the whole scene that just played out between us.

Then it hits me.

He could tell.

One look, a few exchanged words and a brief physical interaction and he could tell.

**** a duck and stuff me with a feather. I never could fool him, not with a simple fib or a lie by omission. He always knew. Right from the beginning he’d told me that he loved my backbone and sass but when it was just the two of us behind closed doors, I was his. Now the one thing I couldn’t admit to myself back then, the part of me he wanted to nurture, just revealed itself to Sean in all its glory.

But that’s in my past, and I realized a long time ago that as hard as you try, you can’t change what has gone before. You can only learn from it. And this time, Sean’s the one walking away from me, not the other way around.

Irony sucks ass sometimes.

I take a deep breath and walk down the corridor to the nurses’ station, asking directions toward Ryan’s room.

When I find him, he’s staring out the window looking lost. His vacant stare and downturned mouth seem unnatural on his face. This is Ryan, the guy who always used to liven up the mood of any room he walked into. He’s the happy go lucky to Sean’s intense and broody. The combination always made for a good time. But looking at the man lying in the hospital bed in front of me, all I can see is a lone man who looks like he’s lost everything.

“Ryan?” I say hesitantly. He slowly turns his head toward me and his body goes rigid in surprise, then relaxes again, although the wince I see cannot be missed. “How are you feeling?” My voice is still soft. I’ve had a lot of practice dealing with victims of crime, but something tells me that this is something else, something important that I’ve missed.

He shrugs his shoulders and turns his head back to the window. “Did you see my brother?” he asks, his voice flat and without feeling.

“Yeah, I did. Not my favorite thing in the world I must admit.”

“Why’s that? You two haven’t seen each other in what … ten years?” He still won’t look away from the window.

I sit down on the bed beside his legs and gently put my hand on top of the blanket to get his attention. “Ry, did something happen? With Sean?”

He slowly turns his head and stares at me as if I have two heads or something. His eye is almost swollen shut and he has a bandage around his head covering his wound. He studies me for what seems like forever before he asks, “Are you here as a friend or as a cop, Sam? Because the answer to that will determine my answer to your question.”

My eyes widen in surprise. I’ve never been asked that before so I’ve never had to consider it. But Ryan was my friend, Sean’s brother, and right now, I’m guessing he needs a friend. I shake my head. “As your friend, Ryan. Please tell me what’s going on so I can help you.”

He gives me the slightest of nods before taking a slow, measured breath. “Sean basically just washed his hands of me, just before you arrived.”

I gasp. No, that can’t be right. The two of them are the only family they have left. “No …”

He lets out a laugh then gasps in pain. “****, that hurts. Yep, my brother has finally had enough of my ****. He’s sick of being the father, the brother and the fixer-upper.” He looks back out the window and I know I’m losing him again.

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“Ryan, Sean loves you. You guys used to be so close and you’re working at the club. He wouldn’t just walk away.”

He jerks his head back to me. “Did you not see him walk away a few minutes ago? God! He was yelling so loud that the nurse had to call security. Your precious Sean has decided he’s done and what he says goes, so he’s leaving me to deal with my own **** and I don’t blame him. I’m in a lot of debt, and I think that’s what today at the club was all about. Robbery gone bad is what it looks like but that guy was there to rough me up and send a message. Well, message f**king received.”

He takes a breath again, then sighs loudly. “Maybe you should go, Sammy. You seem to like leaving when the going gets tough. Oh wait, nope. You just leave when someone dies and we need you.”

I swallow to try and rid myself of the large lump that’s made itself home in my throat. ****! No wonder Sean looked at me with a wariness that I’d never seen him with before. Although there is probably a lot of anger there too. It was a long time ago, but my departure from their lives was sudden and a shock. I had to cut all ties for my own heart. But that’s another story for another time.

“Ry, I didn’t mean for it to happen like that. I’m sorry. One day I might tell you about it, but in all honesty, that’s between Sean and me.”

His eyes follow me as I get off the bed and stand up. “Sorry, it’s none of my business. Please …”

I’m suddenly taken back to Ryan as the impressionable seventeen year old boy I met all those years ago.

“I’ve got to get going, Ry.” I reach into my pocket and pull out a business card with my numbers on it. “But here’s my card. If you need me, you call. Maybe I can help with Sean. I don’t know whether he’d be receptive to talking with me, but if you want me to I’ll try.”

Seeing Sean again must have fried my damn brain. I’m volunteering to act as a go between for the Miller brothers. Wonders will never cease.

Or maybe, subconsciously, I just want to see Sean again.

Vodka. I need Vodka, stat!

Chapter 4: “Drink You Away”

Sam

“More Vodddkaaaa,” I mumble into my glass as I down my fifth drink. How did I get here?

As I was leaving the hospital, I sent Helen a text telling her I needed a drink—or ten!—and that I was on my way. See, that’s what is so great about having a best friend who is exactly like you. A simple text of ‘I need Vodka stat. Just saw Sean’ tells her everything she needs to know and why.

On my way to her place, I couldn’t get Sean and our not entirely unexpected but still surprising conversation out of my head.

Sean was always able to elicit a reaction from me. Whether it was riling me up, shocking me, or more often than not, turning me on with a single heated look. I could never read him though. He was always unexpected, but positively so. Despite his tragic family loss at such a young age, he was strong and in control. He had dreams and aspirations, he saw what he wanted and went after it without hesitation.

And the day we met, what he wanted and went after was me.

It was our junior year in college. We were two pre-law students sitting on opposite sides of the au***orium and squaring off during a political science class. The impromptu debate over the effectiveness of the modern Republican idealism was thrilling, infuriating and heated. Sean’s ****y smirk and laid back demeanor was evident as he traded barbs and opinions back and forth with me. In the end, the professor had to get us to agree to disagree, but even from across the room, our chemistry was undeniable.

When the end of class came, I was still riled up, the adrenaline from the exchange coursing through me, so I was too distracted to notice him come up next to me. When I stood up with my bag and leaned forward, I caught the underside of his chin with my head on the way up.

“****ing hell, woman, no need to hurt me.” I regained my balance and stood back, looking up into the most captivating blue eyes I had ever seen. Close up, Sean’s face was all male; angular with a strong jaw, and the most kissable lips I’d ever seen. I lost myself in his gaze, but I didn’t miss the curling of his lips.

He held out his hand for me to shake. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Sean Miller, the stubborn and argumentative man who had the pleasure of arguing with you today.” His grin got impossibly bigger as I stood there, equally taken aback and turned on by his candid approach.

Looking down at his hand, I shook my head to clear the hot guy fog that was threatening to take over, and put my hand in his, gripping firmly. My mother’s words of appearing strong and unwavering echoed through my mind. “Sam, Sam Richards. Pleased to meet another steadfast student.” I pulled my hand away when the heat radiating from his tall, foreboding body started to get to me. “Sorry, but I have to get to my next class.”

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 bull****,” 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.”

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“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 **** 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 ****, 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, f**k. I dunno. He’s Sean f**king 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? ****! I look up at Helen and Rico who are both waiting for my answer.

“****!” 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! **** 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 f**king 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.

Chapter 5: “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.

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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 f**k 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 dy***ite. 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, *** 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 ***. 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 ****. 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.

I continued to taunt her, using the kiss as a promise to claim her body as my own just for that one night. I eased back from the kiss, lightly scraping my teeth along her lower lip, eliciting a shudder from Mac that I felt travel through her entire body.

“Tonight, baby doll, you’re mine. Do you understand that?”

She nodded, seemingly speechless. Her breathing was labored, causing my already hammering c**k to harden impossibly further. I was turned on by the power she was letting me have over her, her willingness to give herself and her body over to me, and I planned to show her everything I had to give, to consume her, bring her to new heights she’d never fantasized about.

Even with just a few words spoken between us, I knew Mac was different. She wasn’t the type to get clingy, but she wasn’t indifferent either. She struck me as a woman who knew what she wanted and what she needed, and unlike Sam, she knew how to get it.