Free Agent (2 page)

It had been way too long since she’d felt the stirring of desire, the inexplicable need to give herself completely to someone. Constant work could do that to a person, she supposed. But something had drawn her to The Buggy Whip tonight, and fatigue aside, she had caved to the impulse. Her feet hurt and the strain of trying to follow a conversation when she wasn’t really interested in the subject was beginning to give her a headache.

Abandoning pretense, she let her gaze drift around the room. There was the usual mix of unattached Doms and subs engaged in the tedious job of sizing each other up in the hopes of finding a suitable partner for the rest of the night or longer. Her eyes locked with a familiar set across the room. If she’d had any inclination to submit to the man, she would have looked away, but she held his gaze until he silently acknowledged her with a slight nod, his lips quirking up on one side.

What had it been? Two years? No, more like three. She and Damon had explored the possibility of a match, but after a few sessions, both agreed to go their separate ways. He hadn’t been cruel, but they’d both been searching for something and hadn’t found it in each other.

His gaze slid away, and the tension in her stomach eased.
Not even tempted
. That was a good thing. There was no use in going backward, making the same mistakes again. Part of the reason she’d devoted so much time to the start up of her business was to forget the twisted mind-fucks Damon had subjected her to. It hadn’t taken long for her to decide she wasn’t ready, might never be ready, for his particular brand of domination.

But, here she was again, letting the grip of need drag her into the path of people like Damon.

She shifted her feet and raised her drink to her lips. Ice cubes clinked against the glass when she tipped the cool liquid into her mouth. The red paper bracelet identifying her as a sub seeking a Dom slid down her arm. Placing the glass back on the table, she adjusted the band, almost wishing she hadn’t given in and accepted it. At the door, everyone was asked to select a color-coded bracelet. Tonight, green and blue indicated Dom’s who were and were not seeking subs, red and orange were for the subs.

Discreetly eyeing the male population for a green band attached to an interesting body, she wasn’t prepared for the jolt that rocked her back on her heels. He stood in profile, leaning against the bar, talking to another Dom. The first thing she noticed was his hand. Strong fingers held a tumbler filled with dark liquid, which he lifted to his lips. She was so mesmerized by the fullness and shape of those lips she almost missed the flash of blue at his wrist. Damn. He wasn’t shopping for a sub.

Just my fucked up luck.

She glanced away, noticed the green band on the wrist of his friend, but felt nothing. Not even a twinge of interest. Blue wristband gestured with his hand, drawing her attention back to him. She straightened her shoulders, thrusting her best assets out. Her skin felt electrified, and her core was well on its way to a meltdown, and all she’d done was look at the man. In profile, no less.

He appeared to be a few years older than her, but his tight jeans and tailored shirt testified to his excellent condition. Firm. Muscular. Broad shouldered and slim hipped. She wished he would turn, so she could see his package—gauge the size. It had to be massive. No one that big would have a little cock. God couldn’t be so sadistic.

His hair was neatly styled but, at the same time, disheveled as if he knew he was supposed to groom but didn’t give a fuck one way or the other. Not a pretty-boy who couldn’t drag himself away from a mirror.

A faint hint of dark stubble lined his cheek and jaw—not the trendy see-how-much-testosterone-I-have kind, but the damn, I-forgot-to-shave kind. The kind that would abrade a woman’s skin, leave a mark to remind her who had claimed her.

Brooke licked her lips and clenched her thighs together as a feeling she thought long forgotten built between her legs. She imagined his cheeks between her legs and his mouth on her pussy. Was he the kind who would restrain her then take what he wanted?

Hell, yes. He’d do all kinds of things to her, and she wanted every one of them.

Her nipples chafed against the lace edging of her corset, aching for his attention. She studied the one hand she could see. Clean, neat nails and blunt fingertips. It was a workingman’s hand, capable of tenderness when called for yet able to discipline and arouse.

She closed her eyes, imagining him taking the weight of her breasts in his hands, his fingers pinching and tugging on her nipples, his tongue tasting. A bolt of pure lust shot from her breasts to her pussy. Her eyes popped open and she glanced looking around making sure the sound she’d heard in her head hadn’t escaped her mouth.

Relief flooded her. None of the others sharing her table seemed to have heard or noticed she was on the sharp edge of coming.

She lifted her drink, took a quick sip, and set the glass down before it shook right out of her hands. What was happening to her? It had clearly been way too long since she’d had a good fuck if she was getting herself off just by imagining a guy touching her. Hell, she hadn’t even touched herself. How pathetic was that?

“Penny for your thoughts.” The words, spoken in a low voice next to her ear startled her half out of her skin. She turned to the friend who had encouraged her to attend the munch.

“Karen. You scared me.”

“That’s because you were off in sub-space somewhere. What’s up with that? Did you let some Dom wire you with a remote vibrator or something and not tell me?”

Brooke clamped the edge of the table to steady herself. Her friend was right. She’d been in sub-space, and she’d gotten there all by herself. Her skin still tingled with arousal and a desperate need to feel his hands on her, but he wasn’t available tonight. She needed to get a grip.

“No. I…I was….”

“Don’t tell me you were daydreaming. I’m not going to buy it. Your skin is flushed, and your eyes are glazed. What are you drinking?” She grabbed Brooke’s drink and sniffed. One eyebrow rose. “Soda?”

“Diet. No alcohol. I’m not stupid. You know I make lousy decisions when I drink.”
Damon.

“Then what’s going on? No alcohol. No vibrator. Who’s got you so worked up?”

“It doesn’t matter. He’s not looking tonight.” She tapped her own red bracelet. “Blue.”

Karen surveyed the room. “Which one? Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” She wasn’t about to tell her friend which man it was. A woman was entitled to her private fantasies.

“I only see one.”

Brooke followed the direction of her cohort’s gaze, and her breath caught in her throat.

“He’s looking at you.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” His gaze held hers for a breath-stealing minute then slowly descended to her breasts. Released from the strength of his stare, she focused on the hand holding a tumbler at his chest. He brought the glass to his lips.

Without thinking, her hand dropped to the juncture of her thighs, her middle finger finding her swollen clit. Seeing her movement, he leaned a little to one side.

She didn’t know what made her do it. Her finger brushed her clit once. Twice. Again. She tumbled over the edge. Spasms racked her body, her pussy clenching so hard the muscles in her abdomen felt like someone had taken a cattle prod to them. She bit her bottom lip to hold in the cries choking her vocal chords. With her free hand, she held onto the edge of the table, a tiny scrap of sanity in the chaos enveloping her body.

“He might not be looking, but he’s definitely
looking
,” Karen said, turning back, undoubtedly to offer more words of unwanted encouragement. She reached out, grabbing Brooke by both arms, supporting her before her knees buckled. “Did you just come?” Her eyes were wide with disbelief. “You just came! Oh my God!”

“No.”

“Don’t even try to deny it. Girl, if you don’t introduce yourself to him, blue band or not, you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

She took a deep breath and let it out before downing the rest of her soda in one long gulp. Good thing she hadn’t had anything stronger or no telling what she might have done. Strip naked and walk across the room to offer herself to him. Yeah, that sounded right. She wasn’t sure what she’d actually done had been any less revealing or humiliating.

“What’s he doing?” she asked, not daring to look his way again.

“He just ordered another drink. Telling, don’t you think?”

“No.” She couldn’t allow herself to think her shameless act had affected him anywhere near as much as it had her. “I’m so embarrassed. I can’t believe I just did that.”

“He is gorgeous, isn’t he? Do you know him?”

“Never saw him before.”

“But you’d get on your knees for him if he asked.”

She confessed her earlier thoughts about stripping naked in the middle of the room for him. “Yeah. But blue. Remember?”

“Maybe he just didn’t want to be bothered by every sub in the place tonight. He sure seemed interested in your little
performance
.”

Brooke buried her face in her hands. “Half the people in here probably saw that.”

“Half is probably being too generous. Maybe twenty-five percent.”

“Ugh!”

“Look. What have you got to lose? Go over there, say hello, drop your gaze and see if he takes the lead. If not, then you might as well go on home. There isn’t a Dom in here who would take what they think is clearly his. Not without an invitation, at least.”

She hadn’t thought of that. The BDSM crowd had rules, and poaching was high on the list of
don’ts
. To the rest of the group, it must have looked as if she was his and they were playing some sort of private game with each other—a bar pickup or come-in-public challenge. Her friend was right. There wasn’t another Dom in the bar who would approach her.

“I’m going home,” she said.

“You’ve got to go past him to get to the door.” Her grin was wicked. “What have you got to lose? Stop and introduce yourself.”

“I can’t. God, isn’t there another way out of this place?”

“Nope. Cassandra doesn’t let people go through the kitchen unless it’s an emergency.”

If her predicament wasn’t an emergency, she didn’t know what was. She stopped short of voicing the thought, sighing instead. “I’ll see you soon. I’ll get out of your way so you can find someone. Maybe his friend?”

Karen glanced at the two men still talking at the bar. “Maybe. He’s hot, too.”

“I suppose.”

“Girl, you’ve got it bad. Go on, now. Scoot on out of here before you make yourself come again. How embarrassing would that be?”

Chapter Three

Todd signaled the bartender for another soda. He needed something cold to send down his gullet to put out the fire raging inside him, and he needed a few seconds to decide what to do next.

He’d sensed her gaze on him a while ago, but since he wasn’t at The Buggy Whip to pick up anyone, he’d resisted the urge to look. He was used to being stared at, assessed. It usually didn’t bother him, but for some reason tonight, he felt this person’s scrutiny all the way down to his toes. Hell, he’d been half-hard before he finally gave in and glanced around, cautiously. He had no intention of encouraging her. He wasn’t about to get involved with a woman—not when he wouldn’t be sticking around for the long haul—and one-night stands didn’t hold the appeal they once did.

He singled her out just as she turned back to face the others at her table, giving him an opportunity to return the favor of cataloguing her assets.

She was stunning. A corset and short skirt hugged rather than defined her shapely petite frame. Honey-blonde hair hung in soft waves over bare shoulders, framing fine features, porcelain fair skin, and blue eyes. A red bracelet indicated she was available. Deciding he liked the package, he waited to see if she would check him out again.

She glanced at the woman beside her then nervously, he thought, her attention darted back to him. For a moment, he was unable to look away. It was as if she saw past his defenses, right to his soul.

Fuck.
He’d never had fanciful thoughts, so why was he now? He jerked his gaze down to her breasts. His skin did that thing again, prickling wherever she looked. She seemed fixated on his hand, so he raised his glass to his lips and drank.

Her arm dropped to her side. A zing of electricity ran from his nape all the way to his balls.
What the fuck was she doing?
Leaning to one side, he watched, completely and utterly fascinated, as her middle finger toyed with a spot she had no business touching without permission from someone.

He leaned heavier on the bar, clutching the cool glass in one hand, contracting the other into a tight fist. It took all of thirty seconds, perhaps less, before she came. Right there in the bar. God, he’d never seen anything like it. Anger, hot and surprisingly violent, shot through him. He turned away, threw the remainder of his soda down his throat in one gulp, and ordered another.

What had the little cunt been thinking? He wasn’t looking for companionship, but she clearly had other ideas. He should lay her out on the bar, hike her skirt up to her waist, and paddle her ass until she came again. He’d teach her to top from the bottom.