“That’s what she said,” I quip. To which, he gives me a hard smack across my rear.

  Hmm, interesting. Okay. I might be down with this.

  Gabe promises to be at my side the entire time, so when he tells me to remove my toga, I don’t give it a second thought. I strip and his eyes go dark—just as they do every time he looks at my body. I can’t get enough of his reactions. He walks me over to a long bench. It’s on an angle and fashioned with straps and cuffs. My bod is on high alert, quite worried about what’s in store for tonight’s festivities.

  “We’ll start slow,” Gabe says in that low dirty voice of his, gripping my neck to bend me over the bench.

  Mama.

  My legs fall to the side and Gabe straps them in. He smoothes my torso flat over the cool leather surface, my bum is now high in the air, exposing me to the room. He then stretches my arms to the sides of the bench, where the cuffs are. He snaps my wrists in. I tug my extremities, testing the restraints, and come to the conclusion I’m virtually immobile. This equipment is not just for looks.

  Gabe’s strong, rough hand runs down my back, over my bum, grazing my sex underneath. I nearly lose it right then, aching when his hand is gone. He selects something off a table and brings it around to show me. It’s like ping pong paddle, but covered in fur. It trails along my side, tickling my skin, as he walks down to the end of the bench. I have the sneaking suspicion that my ass is going to be the ball in this game.

  Thud.

  He gives me a quick and painful swat that takes my breath away. Quickly, he palms my sex to soothe. Again, swat and soothe. An electric current ripples through my body. It’s strangely pleasurable.

  Gabe moves again to the table and this time, shows me a riding crop.

  Giddyup.

  I can just barely see him from the corner of my eye as he takes his stance, and with a flick of the wrist …

  Motherfucker, that hurts.

  He does the same pattern. Flick and soothe. I hold my breath. This time it’s not enjoyable. Not at all. He changes instruments and keeps moving at a steady pace. While there’s nothing wrong with a well-timed smack on the ass, this is ridiculous. It stings. Worse than plucking, or waxing, or God forbid, exercising.

  My head pounds and hot tears spill from my eyes. Finally, I can’t take it anymore.

  “Bumblebee,” I scream. It’s the first word that comes to mind. No, we never talked safe words, but I read the books. I know how this is supposed to go. Say the word and the pain stops. And I want it to stop this instant.

  It works. No more pain.

  “What the hell?” Gabe’s face comes into vision through my tears. He’s squatting in front of me. “Jesus, Stevie. You’re hurt?”

  “Damn right I’m hurt. You’ve been whipping me with everything you could find on that fucking table.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything? The way you were moaning, I thought you were enjoying yourself.”

  “I was, at first, with the furry job. After that, it stung like a bitch.” I blow my sweaty bangs off my forehead.

  Gabe’s face relaxes and before I know it, he’s shaking. In laughter. Real nice. He uncuffs me and I pinch his ear. “You think this is funny, you masochist?”

  “Hey,” he bats at my hand. “Bumblebee. Bumblebee.”

  “It’s my safe word,” I offer indignantly.

  “So I gathered.” He rubs my wrists. “I’m sorry, baby. I should’ve prepared you better for this. But look at it this way, now we know what you don’t like.”

  “Yeah? Tell that to my aching behind.”

  He leans over and peppers kisses all over my bottom, then grabs some type of cream from the table and massages it in. “I’ll never hurt you again,” he whispers to my bottom.

  “Well—” I start.

  “I’m listening,” Gabe says.

  “Like I said, I didn’t mind the paddle o’fur.”

  “Mmm,” he hums. “So noted.”

  “You know, this bench could be put to much better uses. Why waste it with pain?”

  “What did you have in mind, Ms. Sinclair?”

  Gabe unbuckles me and I quickly turn around, link my legs around his waist, and pull him to me. I capture his lips and invade his mouth so deeply, it has him moaning.

  “Intolerable,” he says as his lips turn up in a way that makes me want to do filthy things to him in this room full of people.

  What I wouldn’t give to get him on this bench.

  After our night of Bondage-An-Ow- Ow, I sleep like the dead.

  The next time we’re at The Club, I perform a strip tease. It’s the easiest room for me by far. Gabe must’ve liked my performance because after, he pulled me into his office to have his wicked way with me. But as incredible as these little adventures have been, the nights in between are the best. Yes, I am a vixen at Venus. The rest of the time? I’m simply his. I don’t think I’ve ever been so in tune with my body, or with another person. I find myself weeping as each day passes, bringing our time together closer to an end.

  So far, we’ve spent our free evenings with a walk down to the pier to ride on the Ferris wheel, a picnic in the park, and dinner at Gabe’s favorite Indian place.

  Tomorrow night, he plans to take me to his new hotel.

  But first, I have one more due to pay at The Club.

  Chapter 20

  Stevie

  “This is the last due to pay before you get your week as Venus, babe,” Gabe says when we get to The Club. “Are you ready?”

  “I just wish it could be you.” I pout.

  Gabe kisses my forehead. “That wouldn’t be much of an adventure, or challenge, I might add. Seeing as you’ve already got me completely enamored and wrapped around your little finger.”

  Yeah, right. That would be the other way around, thank you.

  I know he is right, though. I need to see this adventure through. I need to prove it to him. And I want it. Oh, how I want a week of being worshipped. The opportunity to be a Goddess for a week, especially after everything I’ve been through. I need this. I deserve this.

  So not to overwhelm me, Gabe’s only been telling me about the dues one at a time. Last night, the strip tease, was probably the most fun. Even if my skills are lacking. I felt powerful up on that stage. And I loved Gabe’s expression as he watched.

  “Tell me.” I stroke Gabe’s leg as we sit in the dressing room, loving how touching him has become so natural in only a few days. “What is my final quest?”

  “Meeting cupid’s match and going into the bedroom,” he says with warm eyes, despite the fact his jaw is tight and throbbing. “A consummation, if you will.”

  Regret fills me from head to toe. I don’t want to consummate anything with anyone other than Gabe. “Are you serious?” I squeak.

  Gabe hides it well, but I notice his joy at my reaction. In my reservation about this task. I know he’s feeling the same way I am—he doesn’t want me to be with anyone else. And I pray, by some miracle, the cupid will select him.

  “Babe, if you want the prize, you have to pay the dues.” Gabe’s expression grows impassive. “I’m sorry, I wish there was another way. Believe me. But I know I have to be ready to let you go; our time together isn’t going to last forever. I’m just a stop on your journey. I may not like it, but it’s the truth. So I don’t want you to feel one bit guilty or sad. I knew what I was getting into.”

  And there we have it.

  I am just a little pet project to him. I am ready to declare myself after all of this. But he doesn’t want that. He’s just one stop on my journey. Well, if that’s how he feels about it, then bring it. I’m not going to quit now.

  “There’s a nice guy you can do this with, Stevie,” Gabe says. “It’s your call. I don’t want you to feel guilty or that you owe something to me. This is for you. Whatever you want. I’m so proud of you. It’s like you’re a new person.”

  “You know who my cupid set me up with?” I ask, trying to focus on the task at hand. I can’t let my feelings for Gabe ruin this for me—especially when he doesn’t seem to feel the same way.

  “I’m actually your cupid on this one, babe. I didn’t trust anyone else to do it. Jonathon is his name, and I think you’ll be very compatible. In fact, your stories are quite similar. He’s doing this for his girlfriend. He’s never felt adequate in the bedroom, so he’s been coming here for months trying to make things better for her. Quite brave and admirable, really. Much like you, Stevie."

  At the moment, it’s not possible to feel any less brave or admirable. I want to run and forget the whole thing, but Gabe is right, I have changed. And I will see this to the end.

  “Are you ready to meet him?” he asks.

  “I guess.” I pout and Gabe flinches.

  From the corner of the meeting room, a cupid brings a tall man with sandy hair toward the room. That must be Jonathan.

  We follow, and I keep my eyes on my match-up. Something tingles in the back of my brain, and as we get closer, recognition kicks in. I know that hair and that gait.

  “Max,” I whisper, my eyes glued to the man heading to the same place Gabe is taking me. There is no doubt that man is my ex.

  “What?” Gabe says. “Where?”

  I point ahead to our destination, and he immediately knows who I’m talking about. “Max? He told me his name is Jonathan.”

  “Yes,” I say, unable to make sense of any of it. “Jonathan Maxwell. He always thought Jon was too common.” I clear my throat. “He goes by Max.”

  “Shit,” Gabe exhales, and I can hear the pain in his voice. “That’s it,” he says. “Let’s call this off now. I’m so sorry. This shouldn’t have happened. I take full responsibility. Let me get you home, Stevie.”

  “No,” I tell him. “Wait.”

  So Max was coming here for me? And soon everything starts to fall into place, becoming crystal clear. Max must have known he wasn’t doing it for me in the bedroom, so instead of being like most guys—instead of having an affair or taking it out on me—he put all his pride on the line to come here, to learn how to be with me. It breaks my heart, but also fills it back up again. I feel all those ties to him, all the things we’ve had together—the security, comfort, love—tugging on me.

  My heart aches as I look at Gabe. Gone is his confidence and sexy-ass bravado. He looks sad, desperate, defeated. I am so torn.

  What am I going to do?

  Still, I know I can’t turn away from Max. It is like it is meant to be; we both land in the same place to find each other again. I know ours is not what Hallmark stories are made of—lovers going to a sex club to get their groove back for the other. But it is my version of romance. It is real and true, and he’s done this for me. How can I turn my back on him now?

  Gabe can’t promise me a future. He just offers today, and that isn’t enough. I want more.

  “Stevie, wait,” Gabe calls out as I walk away from him.

  And toward Max.

  Gabe

  Motherfucker. How can this be happening now? I thought I had more time with her. I wanted to ease her into this. Ease her into being with me. For real.

  But her face, the way she’s looking at him. Like he’s done this amazing thing for her or something. Normally, I’d agree, but not now. Not with Stevie. She deserves more, more than he could ever give her. Frankly, if he couldn’t figure out how to please her on his own he should give it the fuck up and try again. With someone new.

  “Wait, Stevie,” I call out to her. She doesn’t stop.

  I wave my hand to Max’s cupid, Kimberly, signaling to her to get him inside the room quickly. He hasn’t spotted us yet and I need a minute with Stevie. Alone. I have to find a way to talk some sense into her. I can’t let her slip away from me. I can’t let this happen again. Not when I’ve just finally recovered from the last time.

  I catch up to Stevie in just a few strides and pull her to a stop. “Stevie,” my voice is soft, searching. “Just hold on for a minute.”

  She looks up and me and nods.

  That’s better.

  “I’m sorry, Gabe,” she says. “I didn’t mean to run from you. This has just taken me by surprise. I’m so confused.”

  “I know, baby,” I stroke her arm, hoping it’s not for the last time. “Before we go in there and resolve this thing, I need you to know that this last week has meant the world to me.”

  I can’t lay it on too thick. I don’t want to scare her even more. Just go easy, give her options, let her know this is more than just a fun time. But don’t reveal too much—not yet. Don’t blow it.

  “Me too.” She smiles. “I know you get to do this type of thing all the time—”

  “No,” I interrupt. “No, I don’t, Stevie. I’ve told you this. I don’t do this type of thing all the time. This has been a first for me too, in so many ways. You are special and it’s more than what we’ve done at The Club. It’s more than sex, Stevie.”

  “What are you trying to say?” she asks, but I’m not sure she really wants the answer.

  “I guess I’m trying to say I want more. “

  “More what?”

  “Of you. Of everything. Please don’t let what he says in that room change what’s happening between us. Please just think it all through.”

  “Okay?”

  “Okay, what?”

  “Okay, I will think it all through. I can promise you that.”

  I give her arms one more squeeze, wanting more than anything to throw her over my shoulder and drag her back to my place.

  “Well,” I say. “Let’s see what Jonathan has to say for himself, shall we?”

  Chapter 21

  Stevie

  “Gabe, what the hell is going on?” Max asks when we get to the bedroom at The Club and he spots me.

  I hate to admit it, but Max looks good all fiery. His face is flushed and his body trembling. It’s been less than two weeks since he walked out my door, but he looks so different.

  I watch and listen. Like Gabe said, I need to think it all through. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gabe now. He’s motioning with his head to the other cupid. She leaves the room. Inside is a dimmed space with high ceilings and dark walls. There are two king size beds with flowing satin fabric hanging from the canopy—a bench sits at the foot of each—and a large wooden chest in the corner.

  “I could ask you the same thing, Max,” Gabe spits as he shuts the door. He seems ready for a fight.

  Gabe and Max square off, while I take a seat on the bench.

  After a long moment, Max sighs and dismisses Gabe, who easily retreats—it’s a little sad to watch. It’s like we’ve entered into some alternative universe. Then, Max sets his eyes on me and moves closer, placing his hands on my shoulders—all possessive and authoritative and, quite honestly, hot as hell.

  Maybe it’s this place or my little adventure, but my libido is out of control as this new alpha male makes his presence. I’m so conflicted feeling this way—especially with what Gabe just said. And the way I feel about him. My life has turned upside down since I met him. All good things. Great things.

  And he’s right, it’s not just the sex—though that has been absolutely mind-blowing. It’s also our picnics and dates and room service in bed. We’ve had the whole package.

  “Let’s get this sorted out, Stevie,” Max says. “Because I’m not letting you go again.”

  My stomach betrays Gabe as it flips at Max’s words. Still, I don’t say a word. I just sit there; I’m sure my mouth is hanging open, because I’m so dumbfounded, I can’t move. Instead, I watch Max’s conversation ping pong between Gabe and me.

  Where was this guy for the past year?

  Max, once again, turns his attention to Gabe.

  “First, I need to know exactly what you’re up to, Gabe. Why did you bring Stevie here? You told me this club was the way for me to win her back. You said it helped you with your wife.”

  Wife?

  Oh no. No, no, no.

  Gabe is married? My heart sinks at the thought. It was one of the first questions I asked him the night we met. And he lied to me? Was this all just a game to him?

  Don’t let what happens in there change anything. That’s what Gabe just said. Is this what he met? Did he know Max was going to inform me of his marital status?

  My skin flushes and I clench my teeth as my despair heats to anger. Was Gabe’s wife one of the women on the dance floor with us the first time at Venus? Or in the dark room? Do they get off on this?

  I shoot scorching daggers at Gabe, and he shakes his head. But I can’t talk to him about that now. I don’t want to. I can’t think about anything with Max staring at me.

  “I didn’t know Stevie was your ex, Jon—er, Max,” Gabe says, keeping his eyes on me.

  I divert my gaze, unable to look at him anymore.

  “How would I know that?” Gabe continues. “I met Stevie after I met you … when you let her go. I had no idea she was your ex.”

  My stomach turns at that truth. Because Max did leave, knowing I had the worst possible impression. He left knowing I thought he cheated on me. And he let me believe that—let me fall apart for days. Only to be picked up by a married man—and a kinky one at that.

  What the hell have I gotten myself into?

  “I didn’t let her go.” Max turns back to me as he says this. “I’ve been fighting for her; I’m still fighting for her. What are you doing here, Stevie? You don’t belong in a place like this.”

  I laugh—hysterical cackles that become uncontrollable. This situation couldn’t be more bizarre.

  “Actually, I do,” I say when I regain my composure. “I was a mess when you left, Max. I’ve made some changes, and this club helped me. But this isn’t about me, and what I’m doing here, it’s about you. Why couldn’t you tell me what you were up to? Why did you let me think you were out screwing other women?”

  “I never wanted you to think that,” he says. “I tried calling to explain once I got into Cincinnati. You wouldn’t pick up. And once I returned, you were MIA.”

 

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