Page 4 of Power Struggle

It’s then that I remember who and where I am.

I’m Addison Hughes. A woman known for being confident, sexy, and brave, and I’m currently standing in the middle of a goddamned sex party. There is no room for being bashful. My stomach pangs, and my chest thumps as I reach out and gracefully pluck a flute from his tray. I smirk, stepping into his bubble, allowing myself to sink into the one place I truly feel confident: sexual domination.

“Don’t worry, love,” I purr, leaning in close enough to hear the man, who can’t be any older than 23, gulp loudly. “If I’d spilled on you, I’d have made sure to clean you up.” He sputters out a cough, making me grin. This. This is where I ooze confidence. No one can touch this part of me. I exhale softly, letting my breath fan over his ear. “With my tongue.” He sucks in a breath, and I chuckle. “Actually,” I coo, trailing a gentle finger over his hand between us. “I think I’d prefer you on your knees, licking up the mess you made.”

The tray clatters to the ground. Glass shatters, and liquid covers both of our lower halves. Lucky for him, I’m not actually the prissy bitch I pretend to be. I step back just as a much older man in a matching waitstaff outfit appears. His face is red as a tomato as he glowers at the little asshole.

Bingo.

I turn all of my attention to the newcomer, completely dismissing the waiter. I give him a sweet smile tinged with an apology. “I am so, so sorry, Sir. I’m not sure what happened.”

He stops in his tracks and does a double-take. His perusal of my body is much more subdued and discrete than the kids. The man swallows thickly and smiles widely. “Are you okay, Miss?” Miss. Like angels to my ears. “I can speak to the event coordinator about having—”

I place a comforting hand on his shoulder and give it a squeeze. Before, I’d been putting on a show. Now, I genuinely feel bad for his panic. A quick flick of my eyes at the little prick shows he’s now glaring daggers into the side of my head. Yeah—I don’t feel bad for him one bit. Looking back at the older gentleman, I squeeze his shoulder once more and step away.

“No worries. I’m totally fine. I appreciate your concern.” Smiling at the angry kid, I tip my head. “Hope your night gets better.” With that, I turn around, elated when I hear whom I can only assume is the kid’s manager going in on him in a sharp whisper.

I’m not too proud to admit there’s a new pep in my step as I head back toward the small crowd that’s assembled just to my left. Luckily for me, I’m tall for a woman and even taller in my heels. Bringing my glass up to my lips as I reach them, I’m preparing to take a sip when I finally catch sight of what’s gotten so many people’s attention.

Holy fucking hell.

Apparently, the invitation wasn’t kidding when they brought up glory holes. A fact that’s proven when my eyes lock on the sight of a curvy woman’s naked ass and bare thighs in nothing but a pair of red stilettos. She’s bent in half and completely on display for the crowd, as are the two men behind her, stroking their cocks as their rain down handprints on her juicy cheeks. Her upper body is hidden behind the wall, and her pelvis rests on a cushioned pad that lines the small square her body’s squeezed into. The red and black wallpaper to the right and left of her is adorned with various high-end sex toys hanging on hooks for her pleasure and whoever chooses to step up and play.

A sharp zap of lust hits me right in the clit, and my knees buckle at the force of it. Just before I further embarrass myself by falling out of pure lust, a strong arm bands around my waist, catching me and keeping me steady. I gasp, more from the tingles that race through my body at the contact than his sudden appearance. I glance down at the stranger’s arm, finding a black shirt rolled up at the sleeves, exposing a dusting of blonde hair across his veiny, corded forearm. But what catches my full attention is the color of his bracelet—purple, in the exact same shade as one of my own.

And the fact that he’s only wearing one.

We’re a match, is the last thought I have before he whispers in my ear, sending shockwaves through my body.

“Already causing trouble, Addison?”

Chapter Three

She’s here. Of course, I knew she’d be here, but actually seeing her, here, in the middle of a goddamned sex party, is, well—it’s fucking mind-blowing.

Addison Hughes is a 10 in any room. This one is no different. The short black dress clings to every inch of her stunning body in ways that should be illegal. And don’t even get me started on the fucking knee-highs. She’s trying to kill me, I swear.

Except—she didn’t even know you would be here, idiot.

I cringe at the reminder. She didn’t know I was going to be here, and given the fact that we haven’t spoken since the practice disbanded last November, she’d have no reason to expect my presence. Thank God for our meddling assistants who have remained friends despite the distance between all of us. Phillip, Addy’s long-time assistant, called mine, Margie, letting her know that he needed to speak to me immediately. I should have known, judging by Margie’s smirk, that something was up. Unfortunately, I’d been too freaked out, assuming the worst. Visions of Addy in the hospital, or worse, filled my brain, and I’d immediately called him back. Come to find out, Phill had set a series of events in motion that would result in Addison attending tonight’s events. After a thinly veiled threat to me, my manhood, and my future, I agreed to be a part of his meddling scheme.

I chuckle softly as I remember the way he hissed at me. I believe his exact words were: “Since you’ve failed to man up, she’s moving on, Jackson. She’s going back into the dating world with or without you.” Before ever so ineloquently barking: “Shit or get off the pot.”

It’s not that I hadn’t realized so much time had passed. Of course, I did. I was in agony every single day that she was gone. Even longer, if I’m being honest. Four miserable months without her perfect, white smile and those dimples that drive me mad. Four months without hearing her sultry voice and shiver-inducing laugh. A laugh that, if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear is haunting the recesses of my brain. Her dry humor. Her clumsy mouth that spits out words unintentionally when she gets nervous or upset. Fuck, I even miss the fire in her icy blue eyes when she’s pissed off at me.

After going so long without getting my daily Addison fix, seeing her feels equivalent to breathing fresh air after spending months in a shitty porta-potty. Pun absolutely intended.

My eyes rake over her as she leans in and murmurs something unintelligible to the waiter I’d seen shooting longing looks at her from across the room when she first arrived. In an instant, my heart is thumping painfully in my chest. I know Addy. I know the kind of men she usually goes for. I know her power plays and game plans. I’ve spent enough time with her in bars after work when the team would all get together in the early days. I’ve seen her pick up men easily and the way they foam at the mouth over her demanding, sexy presence. I’ve heard her gabbing in the break room at the old office, talking to Phil and Ray about her most recent conquests or adventures on the very dating app that brought us here tonight. Because of that—I also know I’m not her usual type. The younger man holding a tray of drinks, with an attitude I’ve no doubt she’d love to fuck right out of him…definitely her type.

This right here was my main hang-up in following Phillip’s plan. With my connections, it was simple enough to secure an invite to the exclusive event. I knew I’d pass the background and medical evaluations, even though I know I could have had the documents forged, just like my invitation. I also had no doubt that our interests would line up enough to make us natural matches, especially with the modifications I made to my application…something I’d only do for her. I knew I’d match with Addison. I made sure of it. The problem is… I’m not the only one who matched with her. A fact that’s confirmed by the stack of colored bracelets on her wrist.

What if I have to watch her walk away with someone else tonight? What if she goes upstairs into one of those fancy-ass sex rooms and fucks a man who isn’t me? Maybe I should have taken that cocky asshole’s advice and fucked with Addy’s match results.

My stomach sours at the thought. It’s only compounded by the sight of her trailing her sweet, delicate finger across the idiot kid’s arm. A growl builds in my throat, and before I know what I’m doing, I step toward them. But then, I see the tray crash to the floor. I watch with rapt attention as she steps back and smirks at the kid, and all my anxiety wooshes away in an instant. I also know Addy well enough to recognize that particular look. She isn’t trying to hook up or play with him. She’s fucking with him and putting the kid in his place.

I continue to observe from my spot on the far side of the room, away from groping hands and flirtatious conversations. I’m not opposed to flirting idly or taking part in the various events happening around the room. I may be a bi-sexual Pleasure Dom, but I’m also a voyeur as well as a rope bunny. My kinks and quirks know very few bounds, and there are absolutely some things going on in this room that have piqued my interest.

However, nothing, and I do mean nothing, is more interesting than my girl and the way she effortlessly brings men to their knees, metaphorically and physically.

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