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Authors: Deanndra Hall

BOOK: Unforgettable You
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Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Disclaimer

Dedication

A Word from the Author

More Titles from this Author

Support Your Indie Authors

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

About the Author

Sneak Peek: Incredible Us

Connect with Deanndra on Substance B

Chapter One

“H
ey, can we have lunch? I’d really like to talk to you, you know, clear the air and all that.”

I want to sigh very loudly. It’s bad enough that I put myself out there and got knocked down. Now the victor wants to rub it in? Not nice – not nice at all. It’s been five weeks since the collaring ceremony following the pairing event, and I’m nowhere near past all of this.

For reasons I don’t understand, I say, “Sure. Where do you want to go and when?” I want to scream,
No! I don’t want to sit at a table with you!
But I’m not going to do that. I’m better than that.

Two hours later, he rises from the table as I walk up to it in the café down the street from the bank. “Steffen! It’s good to see you!” His hand reaches out, and I take it and shake it.

“Clint. So what’s this all about?”

“Let’s order so we have a little bit of uninterrupted time, okay?” He motions for the server to come to the table, and we order quickly so she’ll leave. “So, I just wanted to touch base with you. It’s been five weeks and . . .”

“I know exactly how long it’s been, thanks. What is it that you want, Clint?”

He gives me a sad look. “I want to know we’re okay, that we’re still friends. None of this was meant to hurt you, Steffen, you know that.”

I sigh deeply. I know that in theory, but it still hurts. I’d been so sure when he and Trish had their problems that I’d be next in line. I wanted her; I’d had her when she first started coming to the club, and I was pretty sure we could have a good relationship if I just had some time with her. But that wouldn’t be happening. Once again, good old Steffen gets passed over.

So I decide that it’s not worth losing a long-term friendship over, and Clint and I have known each other for a long time. “I know. I realize that. I just don’t know what to say. I don’t want to feel this way, but I do. Remember, I was there with her when she was pretty sure you despised her. I just wanted a chance to see if we could have a relationship, you know? But she was gone. You snagged her.”

Clint shakes his head and stares at the table. “I thought I’d lost her. You have no idea how that felt. I didn’t think I could be more hurt than I was when Christi did what she did, but I was wrong. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking, acting the way I did, but that will never,
never
happen again, never. She didn’t deserve that and I’m so sorry about all of it. But I think we’re going to be okay. Every day is a little better than the one before, and I’m really, really hopeful that it’s all going to be fine.” He finally looks up at me. “I’m sorry it all happened the way it did, Steffen. I hope we can still be friends.”

I’ve never seen Clint Winstead look as sheepish as he does right now, and I feel bad that
he
feels so bad. He’s had a rough time of it, and I’m glad he has someone like Trish now. His life has sucked so badly for so long. It’s his time.

But what about my time? Will it ever come?

Thursday night is usually a slow night at the club. It’s a crisp, early fall night when I stroll into the club and head to the locker room to find Gary, Austin, and a guy I haven’t met talking about the ballgame the night before. It’s weird, walking into a room and finding a bunch of bare-chested guys in leathers talking about football.

They all speak as I walk through and just keep talking about the game. I change and stalk back through the room; they say nothing as I pass. By the time I get to the bar, I’m in a better mood. And it doesn’t hurt that Dave’s standing back there, drawing beer and smiling at me. “Hey, Steffen! How ya doin’?”

“Pretty good, pretty good. Can I have a Lite?”

“Sure!” Dave draws the draft and sets it in front of me. “I’m glad you and Clint talked. He really values your friendship, you know.”

I nod and smile. “And I value his. I’m glad we talked too. I’ve felt better ever since.” And that’s true. It’s going on three months and we’ve barely seen each other, but that’s because they aren’t coming to the club much. Instead, they’re staying home and trying to get to know each other a lot better, and apparently it’s working. A couple of people who’ve seen them said they seem really, really happy. I’m glad for that, truly glad. They both deserve to be happy.

“I have to tell you, I haven’t seen Clint this happy in a long, long time, maybe never. Trish is so good for him. And the girls! She always wanted kids but that dickwad she was married to didn’t, and now she’s got two who adore her as much as she adores them. She’s turned into an amazing mom and they’re really attached to her already. It’s a wonderful thing to see. Marrying her was the best thing he ever did.”

Ouch. I want to yell,
Thanks for the reminder.
They got married last week on Labor Day, and I was invited, so I went, even though it was hard. I do want to stay friends with them. “So, when are you going to find yourself a permanent sub?” I ask with a grin for Dave from inside my beer mug.

“Me? Shit. I’m too old for that, too set in my ways. Who the hell would want me?”

That makes me laugh right out loud. “The women around here go wet when you walk through the door. They all think you’re the hottest thing they’ve ever seen and you know it!”

He makes a face. “Well, I’m not the worst thing they’ve ever seen, I’m pretty sure.”

“Aw, you’re just an old stud, Adams. You can’t help yourself!” Now I’m laughing so hard I’m snorting.

“I don’t know about that, but so far none of them have complained!” He’s laughing too. I’d forgotten how much fun Dave can be.

“Find one, Dave. You need a woman.”

“No, I need a housekeeper. I can get a woman any time I want one. I just can’t keep ‘em.”

“One will come across your radar and you’ll latch on. You just wait. She’ll . . .”

“Whoa!” Dave stops me dead in my tracks. “Would you take a look at that!”

I turn to see what’s gotten Dave stirred up and almost drop my beer mug. Clint and Trish have walked into the room and there’s someone with them. I recognize her immediately: Sheila, Trish’s best friend, last name, last name . . . Brewster. Yeah, that’s it. I tried to talk to her at the wedding, but she was having none of that.

Her long, pumpkin-colored hair frames her face and makes her eyes look even bluer than they already are. She’s taller than Trish, but not by much, and outweighs her by a good twenty pounds, every one of them voluptuous and sassy. Bigger tits, bigger hips, round and lush all over. Creamy skin. And freckles. I haven’t seen that many freckles since Melinda Houser in second grade. And they’re adorable.

They walk right up to me. “Steffen! How’s it going?” Clint shakes my hand and slaps me on the shoulder with his left one.

“Doing quite well, thanks!” I turn toward Trish and ask, “Hey, sweetheart, how are you?” Instead of answering, Trish glances at Clint, he nods, and she hugs me. She feels incredible in my arms, and I think about asking Clint if the three of us can scene together, but I remember hearing him tell someone that he doesn’t share. That would probably be a bad idea anyway.

When she turns loose and steps back, she smiles at me and my heart almost breaks. Then she says, “And I’d like you to meet someone. Sheila, this is Master Steffen. Steffen, this is my friend, Sheila. I think you two met last week at the wedding.”

Her eyes are steady, and I like that. Confident. Strong. “It’s a pleasure to meet you again! So is this the first time you’ve been to Bliss?”

She giggles, and it’s a sound like chimes ringing. “It’s the first time I’ve been to any club like this. I really don’t know what to expect.”

“Well, if you have any questions and they’re not handy, ask me or Dave back here,” I tell her, pointing at Dave, “and we’ll try to answer them.”

“Thanks. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. I hope to see you around again soon.” And I mean that. I watch that beautiful ass sway as she walks away and god, I’d like to spank that. So would my cock. At least that’s what it’s telling me. Loudly.

“Wow.” Dave’s voice brings me back.

“Wow is right. That is one fine. Looking. Woman.”

Dave nods. “Yes she is. I think that’s one to watch.”

“You want a run at her?”

Dave shakes his head. “Trish’s friend? No. That would probably be a bad idea. I’m family.”

I snicker. “And I’m not!”

The grin Dave gives me is full of mischief. “Well, you know what they say. He who hesitates is lost.”

Trish and Sheila disappear into the locker room and all of a sudden, Clint’s back. He grabs me by the upper arm and pulls me off the bar stool. “We need to talk.”

My eyes have got to be the size of saucers. “What? Did I do something wrong?”

He drags me out the side door behind the bar and around the corner. When he stops and spins me around, he smiles. “Take it slow and easy. Remember that I said that. She’s had the daylights scared out of her a time or two. Get it?”

I nod hard. “Got it.”

“Okay. Slow and easy. She’s really, really curious, so Trish and I are going to scene tonight, let her see something kind of tame before the hard stuff gets cranked up. I’m going to suggest that she sit over on one of the sofas with you so she’ll have someone to answer her questions. That okay?”

I’m shaking with laughter. “Well, hell yeah! I haven’t completely lost my mind! Sure. Works for me.”

“Let’s get back inside before they think we’re up to something. Even though we are.” Clint turns and strides back into the building. I’m taller and my legs are longer, but I’m having a little trouble keeping up.

We make it to the big room just in time to see Trish and Sheila come out of the locker room. Trish is her usual self, beautiful garter belt with a skirt attached, stockings snapped to it, stilettos, and nothing from the waist up. Sheila, unfortunately, is completely clothed. Damn. But she still looks good. She’s got on a beautiful silver and black corset with a sheer blouse over it and a pair of some kind of stretchy pants that look like water clinging to her curves. Double damn. What I’d give to be those pants.

They join us at the bar and Trish says, “Are you still planning to scene, Sir?”

Clint shoots Trish a smile that would melt steel. “Absolutely.” He downs the rest of his soft drink and turns to Sheila. “Want to watch?”

She shrugs. “I guess. Is it going to be bad?”

Trish giggles. “Define bad!”

“No. Not bad at all. Easy stuff. Steffen can explain things to you if you’d like.”

She turns and looks at me, and I can’t read her face. “Sure.” That’s all she says.

“Well, then, come on over and have a seat!” I try to sound as cheerful as possible, but I’m getting the impression that she’s really, really nervous, or maybe she doesn’t like me at all. I can’t tell. “Clint’s been in the lifestyle for a good while. Everything will be fine.”

“Yeah. Fine.” Her face is still unreadable. I’d love to pick that brain, but I’m not going to push it per Clint. If I piss him off, I can forget this hook-up permanently. We find a sofa that’s not occupied and have a seat. I fight the urge to put my hand across the back behind her. I want to, but I don’t dare.

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