Page 8 of His to Cherish
But my reaction to her touch was the only proof I needed that this couldn’t happen between us. I would never be satisfied with gentle, quiet sex. Not with her. Just the feel of her hand on me had every filthy fantasy racing through my mind. I wanted to force her to her knees there in the restaurant and make her take my aching dick into her mouth. I wanted to lay her out on that table and feast on her pussy instead of our dessert. I wanted to pull her over my lap and spank her sexy ass for getting Daddy hard in the restaurant?—
I let out a groan. That, that right there is why this can’t happen. The things I want, the things Ineed…it’s not right to expose someone like Lilly to the shit in my head.
“Here,” a familiar voice says, and I turn to see my friend, Carter Grant, holding out a glass of amber liquid. “You look like you could use this.”
“Thanks,” I grunt out, then down half the whiskey in one gulp. I’m sure this is pricey stuff—nothing but the best for Club Wyld—and meant to be savored, but I don’t really care.
“I wasn’t sure I’d see you tonight,” Grant presses. “It’s always kind of a crapshoot the nights you take Lilly out.”
I grunt in response. I don’t want to get into this.
“I can never predict if you’re going to end up palling around, painting each other’s nails and having pillow fights?—”
“Fuck off, Grant,” I grumble before taking another pull of scotch.
“Or,” he goes on, totally ignoring my protests. “You’re just as likely to end up here, looking to burn off tension from a night spent with Little Miss Untouchable.”
I glare at him. “Don’t fucking talk about her like that.”
He holds up his hands but doesn’t bother wiping the smirk from his face. “I’m just saying, sometimes it seems like you’re going for sainthood. Spending all that time with a woman you want so badly and won’t let yourself have.”
I hadn’t been much of a saint tonight. Not only had I made her feel my dick, I’d also rejected her. My girl had been so brave, asking for what she wanted. Self-esteem has never been Lilly’s strong point and I know what it took for her to make that jump.
And I shot her down. Yes, I had a good damn reason for it. But she didn’t know that. All she knew was that I said no. Her stricken, pale face is going to haunt me until the day I die.
I snag a passing waiter and hand him my empty glass, asking for another ASAP. “You’ve barely been here for ten minutes and you’re already on drink number two? Tonight must have been even more difficult than usual.”
“Again, fuck off.”
He just grins, the annoying bastard. “Well, if you’re looking to burn off some steam, you came to the right place. You missed the main stage show but things are just starting to pick up in the back.”
I feel a familiar thrum of heat in my veins. Club Wyld is the only place I’ve ever truly been able to feel like myself when it comes to sex. There’s no judgement here. No self-doubt. Just people who know what they want and aren’t ashamed to take it. Sometimes I feel like I didn’t truly understand myself until I stepped through that heavy steel door to the secret rooms in the back.
“What’s on the schedule?” I ask, crossing my fingers that there could be something exciting enough to take my mind off my shit night.
“Philip was already here with his sub,” he says, grinning lasciviously. “He put her through nearly two hours with a whip and paddle. Poor thing.”
I grunt. Philip Matthews is one of the most accomplished Doms I’ve ever met. If any scene was going to get me out of this funk, it would probably be his.
Then again, his scenes hadn’t been quite the same since he collared his current sub. They have a relationship outside of this place—I think I heard they got married recently—and their love and connection shines through their work.
Not that that’s a bad thing. There’s nothing like watching a Dom/sub pair who have a true connection. The amount of trust they have in each other can be breathtaking.
But I’m not sure watching the two of them being in love is really what I need tonight.
“Your favorite room looked quite busy when I passed by earlier,” he says pointedly, and I close my eyes, wishing for the millionth time that the mere mention of that room didn’t make my dick twitch.
If it was just the dominant stuff, I might be able to make things work with Lilly. She seems to be happy to let me take the lead in most respects. Lots of couples participate in some light bondage and spanking. I could make that work.
But there’s more to me than a simple desire to be dominating in bed. And it’s those needs that make my best friend off limits.
“Pretty sure I saw a few littles looking for a Daddy for the night.”
“Then why don’t you go make one of their nights?” I ask.
He laughs. “Oh, I plan to, my friend. My palm has been itching for a naughty bottom all damn week.”
My own palm tingles and I force it into a fist. Images of Lilly spread over my lap assault me. What I wouldn’t give to spank my girl, to show her who’s in charge.
